


I Wouldn't Call It Stalking...

by agetwellcard



Series: Burning Down Cathedrals [1]
Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 16:29:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 69,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/864151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agetwellcard/pseuds/agetwellcard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That one where Brendon's a famous musician and he gets Ryan's band signed and where they don't literally burn down cathedrals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this was originally posted on LiveJournal, more specifically Slash at the Disco, but I wanted to transfer my stuff to AO3 because I like the layout more. If you want to see the original versions, my LiveJournal account is wordsinmylungs. This story is split into two parts, the second being an essential follow up to the first. I wrote this a while back, this actually being my first piece of fanfiction, so please excuse the somewhat lackluster writing and the way I disregard commas when using dialogue. Thanks, hope you like it.

Chapter 1

Family reunions: the one thing that reminds my parents and I why we live in practical exile to the rest of our family. We don’t hate our family or anything, we just prefer to ignore their existence completely. This means forgetting birthdays, missing graduations, avoiding holidays, the whole nine yards. 

I wasn’t thrilled when we arrived at the recreational park near my house. It was full of daunting relatives who looked so happy to see my family. It’s weird because we dance our way around ever having to see them, and they still get overjoyed at the sight of us. We weren’t really a pretty sight, either. My mom and dad were not the friendliest of people and just by looking at them you could tell their marriage was slowly corroding away. I wasn’t awfully special, either. 

I faked smiles and gave bitter hugs to the relatives that required them. I even managed to make small talk, which I utterly despise. I knew if I didn’t my parents would never forgive me. And I didn’t want to give them time to talk. I felt like every time they opened their mouths, a mess would occur and little me would have to clean it up without help.

My aunt, I think, strolled up to my family, a cheery smile splayed out onto her overly tanned face. I held back my distaste. 

“George!” the woman gushes when she sees us. 

“Hello.” My dad acknowledges her. 

“You look so much older!” she says. 

I notice my dad quirk up an annoyed eyebrow before realizing she was referring to me. Barley anyone, not even my distant family, calls me by my first name. Mostly everyone knows I don’t like to be called that because that’s also my dad’s name. I guess I never liked the connection.

“Ryan is much older, seventeen now.” my mother tries to send her a subtle signal.

“Go play with all the kids over there, George.” she says, swapping smiles with my parents. I barely have time to recognize my parents’ faux-smiles before my dad pushes me off into the direction where all the kids are sitting in black plastic chairs that are suffocating the entire outdoor area. They aren’t really kids anymore. Everyone there is at least my age or older. 

I slowly make my way over there, not really wanting to see all of them. Or be here, in general. Suddenly, I feel like I am back at school, at lunch. I really don’t have a designated seat, so I search awkwardly for a more familiar face. I mean, I recognize and could probably name all the people here, but that doesn’t mean I want to talk to them. I swallow hard and start walking towards an empty table, knowing my parents are probably watching me disappointedly. 

“Ryan!” I hear a girl call out. I quickly turn my head to see Lilly sitting at an empty table. She has a sketchpad on the table and a pile of pencils spread around her. I smile, happy to see someone who I could actually talk to normally. 

“Hey!” I say as I sit down in the melting chair that is hot at touch. 

“I didn’t think you were even going to come.” she mutters. 

“This is the one thing we always go to.” I smile, because we have these yearly. They are always right before school starts, so all the younger people are just waiting for their last years to go by quickly. 

“Good.” she perks up. “How have you been?” 

It’s a good question. It’s been a whole year, but I don’t think that much has changed about me. I still go to school with my one best friend. I am still a band nerd with a really big love for music. I am still the kid that no one really knows. I have always been the observer, not the observed. 

“Not much…” I trail on. “You?” 

She actually takes time to ponder the question. Lilly is really the only cousin I can talk to. A few years back we were both the complete loners of the family but merged around wondrous alone abilities. She was also one of the only really creative relatives. Most of my family is notorious for being super smart. I seemed to be missing that gene. But Lilly, with her drawing, and I, with my writing, were a good team. 

“Great, really.” she almost sounds like she is trying to convince me. “I got a few drawings in some galleries!” she cries out. 

“That’s awesome!” I say happily. She deserves it, too. She really is a fantastic drawer for her age. 

“How is Pearson?” she asks. I look confusingly at her for a few beats, before I realize who she is talking about.

“You mean Pete?” I snort out, imagining if Pete’s name was actually ‘Pearson’. “Yeah, he is doing alright.”

Pete happens to be my only friend at school. He is a scrawny, short kid with shiny black hair that relentlessly falls into his brown eyes. He’s usually a sweet and funny friend, but he has his days that make me want to beat him up. In case you were wondering, I wouldn’t be the winner of that fight considering I am a lot skinnier. 

“How is the song writing?” she asks. I freeze up. I really don’t remember telling her I wrote songs. I never tell anyone I sing, let alone write. I do sort of remember, though, the time that we stole a bottle of vodka and took way too many shots last year. I guess I puked up more than expensive liquor that night. 

“Uh, fine.” I mumble, slightly embarrassed. I have never spoken to anyone about my writing. 

“Wait…” she says, a hint of excitement to her voice. “Don’t you like the band Established Heroes?” 

I straighten up and put on a smile just at the name. “They’re my favorite.” I say excitedly. 

“You will never guess what!” she shrieks and a few people give us strange looks. 

“I won’t, so just tell me.” 

She gives me a devilish grin, then flits her eyes away from mine. I watch her face as she scans the crowd of young adults for someone particular. When her eyes stop searching, I look to see who she has them trained on. 

I squeak as I figure it out. Literally squeak. 

“What is he doing here?” I barley whisper, feeling star-struck. There is no way that Brendon fucking Urie is here. At my family reunion. In the same kind of seat as mine. He is the lead singer of Established Heroes. He is the lyricist and mastermind behind the beautiful orchestration of each song that made its way on their three available CD’s. 

“This is what you get for not attending all the other fun family moments.” Lilly snickers. I wait not-so-patiently for her to just tell me. “He’s dating Sarah.” 

I gasp a little. “But…how? I mean he’s famous, and we’re...just the Ross’.” I stumble. 

“I’m not really sure.” she shrugs, nonchalantly like it is no big deal her older sister is dating a full blown celebrity. “I think they met at a beach or something.” 

A little part inside of me goes ‘awww’ because sometimes I think I should have ended up as a girl. I smile and stare admiringly in Brendon’s direction. He is the man who has kept my life together for the past two years. I have seen him perform live a handful of times with Pete. They say music is a natural mender, and it has proven its magic to me at least a few hundred times. I just thank God I’m not wearing one of my several shirts from Established Heroes because I wouldn’t be able to make small talk with the person who gives me so much inspiration. 

"You should go say hi.” she pokes at my rib playfully. 

“No.” I say sternly. “I can’t.” 

“Why?” 

I give her a painful look that says I am too big of a baby to show my face. She gives me a dry look in return and goes back to drawing out small lines that will add up to her next masterpiece. A shrill voice tells us ‘kids’ to get food. 

Lilly pops up from her seat and looks at me intently. I’m not really hungry, but I don’t want to get anymore ‘Ryan! You are so skinny! Eat!’. I always get those. Always. 

So, I slowly get up from my seat, taking one last glimpse at Brendon only a mere few feet away from me. He is only one year older than me, but he looks the same age. His black hair is straight and jagged down onto his face. Like me, in the middle of summer, he is wearing skinny jeans. On his nose, he has red, thin framed glasses that I have only seen in a few pictures from the paparazzi. When his eyes move over to mine, we get stuck in awkward eye contact. I nearly trip and fall from the legs on my chair and break the contact. 

“You okay, Ry?” Lilly laughs loudly, causing practically everyone who is getting up for food to look at us.   
I send her a downcast glare and she shrugs at me merrily. We walk towards the food and I try my best to be careful so I don’t mess up in front of everyone. I scoop a small amount of food that I can push around on my plate in the middle of awkward sentences with Lilly. I start back to the table when a voice calls out. 

“I like that band, too.” I blink and turn to find out who said it. I blink again, because Brendon Urie is addressing me. Me. He even has his fingers pointing at the shirt that is hanging off the thin frame of my body. I have to look down at the shirt to see which one it is. It’s one that doesn’t make music anymore because their drummer quit and then the rest of the band disbanded after fights. It was quite devastating at the time. 

“Really?” I choke out. “I mean, yeah, they’re really good.” 

Smooth, Ryan. 

“Ryan, like, loves your band, Bren.” Lilly tells him. I gag on air, because did she just call him ‘Bren’? I get scared, for the right reasons, when Lilly opens her mouth again. “Last year, I had to listen to him play, like, a whole album of yours on guitar.” 

“Oh.” Brendon says, a flicker of happiness in his eyes; he probably gets it all the time, but I am still mortified and I’m sure my face is bright red. “You play? How long?” 

It takes me a moment to realize he is still talking to me. “Yeah, for about seven years.” I spit out. 

“Damn, that’s longer than me.” he smiles dazzlingly. I widen my eyes because I didn’t think my favorite musician would be less experienced than me. 

“Ryan!” Sarah squeals, running over. She slides her arm around Brendon and looks back towards me. 

“Hi, Sarah.” I say a little coldly. 

“When did you get so tall?” she says dumbly. That tends to happen after a while. She is right, though. I am even slightly taller than Brendon. 

“I’m not really sure.” I mutter awkwardly. I give a polite smile and nod towards my food, then start walking away with Lilly at my heels. 

“Thanks.” I mumble sarcastically, putting food in my mouth so I don’t say something mean. 

“I made you talk to your idol. Put me to death!” she says dramatically, making me smile a little, despite the embarrassment still coursing through me. 

“I could have told him I liked his stuff by myself, though.” 

“Sure.” she says, not believing me. “We should steal a bottle of whatever and ask them to hang out.”

“No.” I shudder. There is no way I would allow myself to get wasted, or god forbid throw up in front of Brendon Urie. Ever. 

“You’re so lame, Ryan.” she smiles.

I steal a look at Brendon and Sarah who are playfully scooping out each other’s food. I gag a little. I like my cousin, mainly because she’s family, but he could do so much better than her. 

Two hours later, a vodka bottle in Sarah’s grasp, we are all giggling as we run off into the depths of the park. It’s getting darker, but all the parents will spend all night talking to each other. Plus, before we left Brendon offered to take us all home. Sarah and Lilly are ahead, practically sprinting, and Brendon and I aren’t putting forth the same effort. I freak out a little because I am going to go hang out with Brendon Urie. 

After a few more minutes we stop at a nice clearing with short grass and a view of the sun setting in the distant horizon. We all plop down on the ground and Sarah takes a drink straight from the bottle, taking her mouth off of it when she lets out a bunch of laughs practically making her choke. 

“Don’t kill yourself, Sarah.” Brendon jokes, snatching the bottle from her. 

He takes a swig, wipes his mouth with his forearm, and hands the bottle towards me. I said only twenty minutes ago I wouldn’t do this, but who am I to reject the alcohol from him and be the kid who can’t have fun? I take it and let some of the vodka reach my tongue and let it burn my throat a little. I haven’t drunk since last year with Lilly, but part of me craves it now. 

“You’re just jealous you can’t drink because you’re driving, hun.” Sarah teases. 

I let out a chuckle and hand the bottle to Lilly, who smirks happily before it makes connection to her lips. I lean back on my arms and stare into the sunset. I probably look girly, but it was pretty and I excuse me for taking advantage of free beauty. 

Next thing I know everyone but Brendon is snorting at anything and we’re all pretty drunk. All the parents have left, but we are still here in the park with no light but our glittering eyes in the moon. 

“I should have brought my guitar.” Brendon says leerily. 

“Yeah, Ryan coulda showed yah what he played me last time.” Lilly screams out. I laugh, the alcohol not exactly vanishing all my habits of being embarrassed. 

“What do you know?” Brendon asks, his voice directed to me. I am sprawled out on the ground, looking up into the stars. 

“Almost everything.” I laugh, because I know at least a small chunk of all of Established Heroes songs on guitar. “Lyrics, too.” I mention. 

“You sing?” he asks. I realize that what he means is do I sing well. I think I have an alright voice. I think.

“Oh my god, Ryan!” Sarah yells. “Do yah ‘member when yah sang that one song all the time when yah ‘re younger.” I cringe, because I do remember. 

“Yeah! It was a Vanessa Carlton song!” Lilly exclaims, having a little trouble pronouncing ‘Vanessa’. 

I roll over, cover my face with my hands, and whine into the grass. Leave to family to bring up all the embarrassing stories of your childhood when your hero is right there. Everyone is laughing besides me. I feel a hand on my back and I shiver a little. It pats me strangely. 

“It’s alright Ryan, I won’t judge you that much.” Brendon laughs, removing his hand awkwardly. Everyone bursts out in laughter again and even I sit up and smile with them. 

“Yah used tah write these awful songs, too!” Sarah squeals. 

“They weren’t that bad!” I laugh. Okay, they were really bad, but I had to stick up for myself a little. “I’ve gotten better anyways.” 

“He has.” Lilly explains, like she is some college professor. “I read some of them.” 

“Thank you!” I raise my hands dramatically at Sarah then sigh. “Let’s stop talking about me.” 

“What time is it?” Brendon asks. “Your mom told us the park closes right before eleven.” 

“Ten-fifty.” I say, pulling out my phone. 

We all know we have to leave, so we pick up our sorry drunk bodies from the warm grass. We all, minus Brendon, walk sloppily towards the parking lot where there are only a few cars remaining. Sarah and Brendon get in the front and Lilly and I sit in the back. Sarah goes towards the radio notches when Brendon slaps her hand out of the way. 

“I’m driving, so I get to choose.” he explains. Part of me is happy because I bet all Sarah listens to is complete shit, and I’m almost certain Brendon has a good taste.

I get comfortable and stare out the window, my brain full of fuzz. Even in my drunken state I’m quiet and know that when I get home I need to go straight to my room and to sleep so I don’t talk to my parents or do something dumb.

Brendon turns on a song by the band whose shirt is on my body. I’m not sure if he did it for me or it was just a coincidence. Either way, I am happy that I know the song that plays. I start humming quietly, staring out the window aimlessly. I hear Brendon start singing along to the lyrics and I smile inwardly. This doesn’t just happen to people. Especially not me. By the chorus I have joined Brendon and we’re singing happily. I notice him smile at me through the rearview mirror. 

I look back at the window and watch the scenery go by as I sing to one of my favorite bands with Brendon Urie. I am such a fanboy. I fall into the song and sing my heart out, because what else do you do after too much alcohol? I close my eyes and sing out the last chorus. After a loud array of laughter I realize the song has ended and I am singing by myself an extra chorus. I close my mouth instantly and look down at my fingers, embarrassment searing through me. It was nice while it lasted.


	2. Chapter 2

When Monday is here, I really wish I could go back to Saturday. Right now, it just seems like a dream. Did I really hang out with Brendon? It was real but it doesn’t feel like it. Either way, walking to lunch with Pete right next to me going off about how Mr. Cards gave them a pop quiz with new stuff on it, isn’t really as fun. Since I’m not replying or really listening, Pete nudges me and asks about my weekend. I realize I never told him about Brendon.

“Dude,” I smile because I know he will be completely jealous. “I met Brendon Urie.” 

Pete practically stops walking and looks at me suspiciously. “Doubt it.” he mumbles, moving his dark hair out of his eyes. He enters the cafeteria and exchanges nervous glances because people don’t usually take a liking to us. We walk to one of the lunch lines and silently hope that not everyone cuts us. 

I guess at first glance, you might make the assumption that Pete could easily win in a fight. He wears a lot of black, mainly hoodies and skinny jeans. There is something slightly threatening about him, but everyone at this school knows he is full of hollow words. People just think the same for me because we are always together. Us staying together is more of a survival tactic than a relationship. 

“I did!” I shout, returning to our conversation. “He was at my family reunion.” 

“Suddenly become part of the family?” Pete snorts, giving me a wide smile. 

“He’s dating my cousin.” I correct him. 

A few kids seamlessly stand in front of us and Pete and I watch helplessly as a mob of people join around them ignoring our existence. I keep my tongue in my mouth so I don’t say something I will regret later. Pete huffs and just leaves the line. Since I don’t want to stay there by myself I go with him. This is almost a routine: we go up to get lunch, get cut, leave. We barley even buy lunch anymore. 

“So, did you tell him about the creepy man crush you have on him?” Pete asks. 

I look at him angrily. “Look, Pete, I’m not gay.” I have told him this like three billion times. “I just really like his music.” 

“Sure.” he drags out, a smile flickering on his face. I roll my eyes at his immaturity. “See? Even that was gay.” 

“You’re just jealous I got to meet him.” I smile. “He was awesome, though.” 

“Did you guys talk about your hair and nails?” he keeps up with the jokes. I just shrug it off and stop talking, because Pete is always like this. I stare blankly at all the kids swarming around the cafeteria with their friends. Suddenly I am starving, but there is no way I’m going to convince Pete to come with me. 

I remember that when we were younger we used to go to this gas station and steal food. Really, it was just Pete. We would take turns; one week he would, the next, I would. Pete seemed to be a master at it. He would look around for a few seconds, then casually stuff the bubblegum or jerky into his pocket and we would stride out looking disinterested in the products. Every time it was my turn, I would do exactly what he did. I could have exited the gas station and it would have been a flawless procedure, but I could never manage it. At the last minute I would turn around and deposit the things from my pocket back onto the shelves.

That’s always seemed to be the dividing point between Pete and me. He has no guilt complex. I have never been able to take what isn’t rightfully mine. I am lucky to have Pete and everything; it’s just a weird relationship we keep up at. 

Pete just doesn’t care if I’m hungry and he won’t have sympathy for me because his conscious won’t remind him to be a better person. Now, my stomach is gurgling for food but my brain is telling me that if I go up there I will regret it. Chances are, one of the kids will say something nasty to me. It’s not that what they will tell me is anywhere near the truth, I will just find a way to make myself believe it. As a writer and a reader, I believe in words. They give me freedom but they also give me strange psychological issues. I take everything everyone tells me and use it against myself.

Suddenly, a loud clamor takes me out of my thoughts. I look over to see someone in one of the chairs with his head casted down. I stare more intently, until I recognize the black hair. 

“Ryan!” the boy says excitedly, tilting his head up slightly. A warm smile is casted across his face and his red glasses are now gone and replaced with contacts that I can just barely make out the edges of in the whites of his eyes. 

“What are you doing here?” I choke out, confused as to why he is even here at my school which he has never attended before. 

“I moved into an apartment not far from here so I could be closer to Sarah.” Brendon says, shrugging. I barely realize that Pete is staring at us like he is going crazy. 

“You know Sarah goes to another school, right?” 

“Yeah,” he says like it is obvious. “They didn’t have any other complexes closer. I found out this morning that you go here, so I have been looking for you.” He slowly picks his head up all the way and straightens up in the plastic seat he is positioned in. 

“You were looking for Ryan?” Pete laughs, disbelief in every word. 

“Why aren’t you guys eating?” Brendon says, ignoring Pete’s comment. He seems a lot more jittery than he was yesterday. I can’t tell if he is nervous about school or if the rumors are true and he does have a mild case of ADD. 

“We’re not hungry.” I exclaim quickly, so that Pete doesn’t actually tell him that we are too spineless to yell at the kids who cut us. If Brendon doesn’t know we are pretty much the losers at this school, then let him keep thinking that. 

“Oh.” he mutters. Before he can even manage to open his mouth again, a pair of kids walks up to us. One has on a pair of hipster glasses and a bright neon shirt. The other one is dressed a whole lot more normal. 

“Hey!” Gabe says excitedly to Brendon. “I’m Gabe, and this is Jon.” he points to the guy next to him who quirks up his lips as he realizes he is being introduced.

Gabe Saporta and Jon Walker are the typical douche bags at any high school. They are good looking so they get passed around from girl to girl and break their already ‘broken’ seven hundred times hearts. I can’t imagine how they would react if they actually did go through a bad breakup. They never will, though. Either way, Gabe and Jon are the essence of why people hate high school so much. 

“Hey.” Brendon gives them a smile. “I’m Brendon.” He says it like they really don’t know. News gets around quick at this small school and since he is a household name it had to be even quicker.

“Since you’re new and everything, you should come and get lunch with us.” Gabe continues, not even bothering to look our way or apologize for the fact that he is stealing away Brendon from us, whom he sat with first. Brendon directs his eyes my way, as if he is looking for my permission to leave with them. I shrug, because I don’t really think he cares about my opinion. Brendon gives me a half smile, then strolls off with Gabe and Jon. 

“Well, that was weird.” Pete mumbles.

When I arrive back at my house later that day I am overwhelmed. I got homework in nearly every class and I’m more tired than ever. I have my band practice tonight, so I won’t be home until six or so. That means that my homework won’t be done until eleven or so. That means no sleep. 

When I open my door to my house I am greeted with silence. The thing about silence is that I have a love/hate relationship with it. When I am at school, silence is all I want. When I am home, I want for there to be talking or laughter or stomps on the floor or something that will remind me that I’m not truly alone in my house. My parents are always at work, which for most teenagers would be a blessing. At times it’s nice, but I miss the times when I was younger. I used to be able to hear my parents laughing at dumb jokes that one of them made. I could hear them preparing dinner. Now, there is just this silence I know I need to fill. I can’t though. 

As I softly wander through my house I retrieve some things I have lying around that I need. My guitar is tucked inside my room, neatly put onto its stand. I slowly put it in a gig bag and scoop up a pile of picks that I stuff into my pocket. Next, I grab the capo I have on my dresser right next to the keys I had set down when I entered.  
I sidestep and find myself in front of a dirty mirror that I haven't cleaned in the longest time. I find a shy-looking boy staring back at me. My brown hair is lower than my ears and has a slight wave to it. Another random band shirt is on my chest and loose skinny jeans are on my legs. There is no way my parents would ever let me buy jeans as tight as Brendon’s. I run my fingers through my hair and tear my eyes away from the mirror and into reality. 

When I get to the practice room a half hour later, my head is filled with musical ideas. I always spend the half hour drive listening to my favorite current music until I need to pull over and write lyrics down that pop into my head, or figure out musical chords that I think might sound interesting together. It’s something I’ve become accustomed to and enjoy. They guys in the band are happy for it, too. I never give them the lyrics or help with the lyrics at all, but I do show them the music I write down.

“Ryan, anything new?” Alex asks me, his fingers moving across the frets of a bright green guitar. 

Alex Gaskarth is completely different from me, minus some similar traits. He isn’t quiet whatsoever, he screams and jumps around and lives life like it’s one big party. He always wears tighter than tight skinny jeans and zip-up sweatshirts. He has golden hair that is cut jaggedly across his forehead and is styled so it’s perfectly shaped around his head. I really don’t want to know how long he actually spends on his hair. He is the singer and main lyricist. 

“Not really.” I shrug. I wrote down half a page of lyrics, but I don’t feel like pulling the crumpled paper out of my pocket and sharing my weird, brutally honest but twisted words with everyone. 

“Then why are you, like, ten minutes late?” Dallon asks, pushing me playfully although part of me has a feeling it isn’t all a big joke to him. He’s really into rules…and his bass. He has dark brown hair that swoops into his eyes and wears something different every time I see him. 

“I got out of school late.” I lie, not wanting to admit to me wasting a long time on the side of the road pouring out my heart onto the back of the car’s instructions that I found in the glove department. 

I get out my guitar and take my spot in the corner of the room. I really like the band I’m in, even if it doesn’t have a name, but I’m not that close to my band mates. I barley talk unless it’s to sing back ups or if I have a new idea for a song or want to change the guitar chords slightly. As I’m connecting my guitar to one of the amps, I feel someone’s presence watching me. 

“Spence.” I say, before even looking up from the picks I’m choosing from. 

“How was school?” he asks, like he’s my father or something, even though my dad would never bother to ask something like that. 

“It’s school.” I say sarcastically, because when was school fun or exciting?

“I had a shitty day, too.” he mutters while he is keeping beat on his thigh with his used drum sticks that look like they may fall apart any minute. “What’s that?” he asks, pointing at the papers that are sticking out of my pocket. I barley have time to realize what he is doing before he snatches them out. I make a big show of dropping my guitar and tearing the papers away from Spencer before his wandering eyes can catch a glimpse of my untidy handwriting. 

“Damn!” Spencer shouts, standing up and opening his hands at me, apparently trying to show that he surrenders or something. 

I feel my face get red as I stuff them back into my pocket, taking extra time to make sure the sides aren’t sticking out. Next, I pick up my guitar that looks fine, but I mentally slap myself for letting it fall to the floor. I check it out and make sure there are no scratches when Dallon and Alex walk up to me. 

“What was that about?” Dallon asks coldly. 

“Nothing.” I mumble, slightly angry about this whole situation. 

Dallon just walks away and starts playing something I don’t recognize on the bass. Alex stays and studies me for a moment. He’s the same age as me, but still looks younger. He starts to grin. 

“What?” I demand. 

“Your picks,” he laughs. “They’re all pink.” 

I look down at the pieces of plastic that have fallen to the ground and see he isn’t joking. They are all pink and glittery. I realize that they are the ones that Lilly gave to me right before I left the car after the family reunion. I guess I was in too much of a hurry to get out of my own house to figure out I had chosen the most girly picks ever. 

“A gift.” I shrug, throwing on a smile. 

The thing about Alex is that he seems to study everyone he meets. He always observes the places he’s in and listens to everything everyone says. I think that’s what made us want to start a band; we were both kind of like that. Now that I think about it, that is probably why this whole thing is still breathing and marching forward. Dallon, Spencer, and I aren’t the closest of people, as much as Alex wants us to be.  
Before Alex walks away, he drops his blue pick into the pile and snatches up one of the pink ones. I continue smiling as I watch him happily go back to the microphone stand he has put up.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
When I open my door to my house for the second time today, I am a lot more tired. I slip off my shoes and with my gig bag still on my back I wander upstairs and look for something to eat. My kitchen is empty and dead as I search for something mildly edible. Sure, my family has a full array of frozen foods or ingredients for lavish meals, but no junk food. I manage to find a bag of semi-stale potato chips and go back downstairs to my room.

I’m singing one of my favorite songs under my breath and simultaneously munching on the chips that tasted better than I thought they would. When I crack open my door, I am greeted with a practical heart attack. I choke on the chips in my mouth as I realize that there is someone in my room.

“You sing a lot.” he notes, standing up from my not made bed. He grabs the bag of chips from me and takes one out and starts eating while I’m in the middle of a coughing fit.

“How did you get in?” I finally manage to speak.

“Your mom let me in, said you’d be here soon, but I’ve been here for half an hour.” Brendon shrugs.

“My mom’s home?” I ask, more to myself than him. Usually my mom isn’t home on the weekdays until nine. I didn’t even see her when I went upstairs.

Brendon casually nods his head, then picks up the scraps of paper that are on my desk in the corner of my room. “These are nice, you weren’t lying about writing good stuff.” I blink a little as I realize he is holding up the entire contents of my song writing folder I must have left out from a couple nights ago.

“You...read them?” disbelief is striking through me. No one, that I know of, has set eyes on those except for me. Part of me is a raging mess, because what authority does Brendon have coming into my house and reading through my private lyrics? The other part is extremely proud because he just told me my writing didn’t suck like I sometimes assumed.

“Should I not have?” he says, his eyes getting wide. I sigh loudly, then drop my guitar bag to the floor and scoop up the papers on the desk. “Where have you been?” he asks, still pushing my dinner of chips into his mouth.

“Band rehearsal.” I tell him, grabbing back the bag of chips from him after depositing the papers into the brown folder I have used for two years.

“You’re in a band?”

“Yup.”

“What type of music do you play?”

“Shouldn’t this be the other way around?” I ask, before he can fire off another crazy amount of questions at me. Brendon just gives me a confused look. “Shouldn’t I be the one that asks all the questions? I mean, I’m the fan. Wait, why are you even here?”

“Oh,” Brendon picks up his eyebrows a little disappointedly. “I wanted to know if you could drive me to school tomorrow.”

“You don’t have a car?” I ask, realizing that there wasn’t a car parked outside when I got here.

“It’s kind of a long story, but I got a little too many tickets for speeding and parking and stuff like that.” he shrugs. Ha, wouldn’t the tabloids just love to hear that?

“You walked here?”

“It was only five minutes.”

“Oh.”

An awkward silence surrounds us and I am actually really used to those. I have become somewhat comfortable in the awkwardness I create among people. I walk over to my bed, plop down loudly, then lean against the painted-blue walls that I have had since forever.

“You never said if you would or not.” Brendon says, throwing the chip bag back at me as he leans against the adjacent wall.

“Sure.” I don’t mind. “But, how did you find out where I lived?”

“Sarah told me.” he explains. I wonder why he didn’t just ask Sarah for my number instead of walking all the way to my house. I don’t ask. “Can you pick me up at, like, seven?”

I nod. “Why are you even still going to school?”

Brendon literally has his future set out for him. His band is top on the charts and even if his music stops selling he can easily sell himself to the public. Everyone wants to know what the fabulous Brendon Urie is up to. Usually, I am one of those people.

“My parents would kill me if I stopped, not that I want to.” he says quickly, picking at his nails.

“Where are your parents?” I ask. Brendon may be an international celebrity, but people always need their parents, especially if they are still in high school.

“They’re still in Vegas.” he says, a slight scent of grudge on his tongue. “Like always.”

I don’t want to make him elaborate, considering he sounds like he doesn’t. Then again, I could be so wrong. Maybe he is just looking for someone to spill his life story out to. Maybe he just wants to be friends with me so he can share things he knows he can’t tell other people. Every once in a while, I wish I had a person like that. Why would Brendon tell his story to some fan, though? It would be fair. He got to read all my lyrics, I get to hear his life story. Trade up?

“So seven, then?” I double check.

"Uh, yeah.” he picks himself off my bed and heads to the door. “Thanks.”

As I said I would, I start picking up Brendon at his apartment at seven everyday and dropping him off after long days at school. He says he’s not sure when he gets his car back, but he’ll pay for gas and stuff. It’s a weird arrangement, considering he’s older than me. It’s just strange to drive anyone older than you when you’re not still in drivers training.  
The only time we ever see each other is the twenty minute drive to school and back. He usually sits with Gabe, Jon and their long list of kids who won’t do anything interesting after college. Brendon typically searches through my iPod for half of the ride, then finally selects one song that he will change before it’s even over. I’m not sure if he just hates my music or he really can’t decide. We also spend the time talking. He tells me things that I have never read online and I share small chunks of my life. I never tell him anything too amazing or informative, just little things about me. We talk about school a lot, too. Since he’s a senior, I get to hear him go on and on about how he doesn’t even need to go to school at this point.

I like doing it, though. Everyday as I wait at his particularly nice apartment parking lot, listening to my last bit of semi-embarrassing music before he comes out his door and I rush to change the song, I feel like I have won some kind of contest. Win a month of driving Brendon Urie to school and back! Includes gas money and talking to the mastermind himself! 

***

At lunch on Thursday, Pete is telling me about how he is still looking for a band. He used to be a part of the one I’m in, but after some temper issues and musical differences Alex decided to kick him out. At first, it was super awkward for me. Pete really was the only one I talked to, but I slowly started talking to everyone else.

“I can write lyrics, too.” Pete is naming off his good qualities. “Don’t chicks like my hair? Isn’t half of the music industry all about hair?”

“Kind of.” I mumble and take advantage of the plate of food that is in front of my face. Pete and I got to lunch early so no one got to cut us. Pete only got a bagel that he tears off little chunks of every couple minutes, but I got a pizza that I am currently devouring.

“Are you still giving Brendon a ride?” Pete asks, then starts laughing at his not-meant-to-be-dirty sentence.

I narrow my eyes at him, not enjoying it as much as he is. “I am.”

“Are they making a new CD?”

“How could I know?”

Pete gives me a dumb look, then gets another chunk of his bagel and puts it into his mouth. He starts talking before he is even done chewing. “You haven’t asked?”

I realize that we never really talked about Established Heroes before. The only time it has ever come up is when on Wednesday one of their songs came on shuffle and Brendon was quick to change it. I kept my mouth closed about it because I didn’t want to be the weird fan kid, even if it was already kind of evident.

“We don’t really talk about the band.” I shrug.

“Dude!” Pete says, straightening up his spine with a genius, but mildly scaring, look on his face. “Can you imagine how many people would read my blog if I could get quotes and shit from Brendon about the band?”

Yes, although Pete bashes me practically every other day about doing girly things, he has a blog. Usually it’s just crap updates about his pathetically boring life as a high school student. I guess he sometimes posts poems and people really like them, too. I have only checked it out a few times and decided it was fairly boring.

“What do you mean?” I reluctantly ask. I didn’t like where this was headed.

“You could just get me information!” he exclaims, like I’m some dirty tabloid who is looking for business in the greasiest form.

“I just started getting to know him, Pete. I’m not going to ambush him with questions about the band when he obviously doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“Why doesn’t he want to talk about it?” Pete jumps a little, his face showing an acute form of fear that makes me want to laugh but I refrain from it.

I simply shrug and go back to my pizza. I’m not sure why Brendon has never brought it up. He’s most likely done thinking about it for now. According to their website, Established Heroes went to Europe a couple months ago until last Monday. I can imagine his head is full of old lyrics, guitar riffs, drum patterns, and the annoyance of his band mates. I mean, if I spend more than one day with Pete I get frustrated and pissed at him easily. Months? The thought sounds horrid.

“Come on!” he pushes me lightly. “Just little quotes? He won’t even notice.”

“That just seems so weird.” I mutter.

I know that if last month I would have been told I get to hang out with Brendon Urie, my mind would have been sent into memory overload, trying to not forget everything Brendon says or does. Now, actually having talked to him and stuff, it just sounds creepy. I look over to Pete who looks ridiculous with his eyebrows scrunched together and his bottom lip jutted out.

“Fine, whatever.” I finally spit out.

“Thanks!”

Maybe if I’m lucky, Pete will start accepting me more if I do this. He always seems to treat me like I’m just the only thing left to be friends with. I hope that if I give him some meaningless quotes he will like me more.

“Did you see that one movie with the ballet and that one girl…Mila Kunis, I think?” Brendon asks me after school. We just left the school parking lot, having to stop and wait for him to buy a bag of chips first.

“I don’t think so.” I say, not remembering that movie or the trailers at the slightest but knowing full well who Megan Fox is.

“It was good.” Brendon nods.

“You into ballet?” I ask, a smile tugging at my lips. “Or just hot chicks?”

“Both, I guess.” Brendon smiles wearily. It is a strange look that makes me move my eyes away from driving for a few extra moments.

I turn onto the familiar road home and know that once Brendon leaves on some tour or to record an album or to do something with his famous life I will miss this. It hasn't even been a week yet, but I know I like this so much. Part of me might just be really happy because Brendon genuinely seems to care about what I say and looks like he wants to be my friend, which usually doesn’t happen to me.

“So, how can someone famous like you be in school? Don’t you have some excuse?” I say, a little surprising to me even.

He laughs uncomfortably. “Excuse? Well, no. I have been putting off school for a long time. I could have been done, like, last year but I keep missing tests and stuff.”  
I’m jealous as I realize that Brendon has probably had tutors over the span of his career. He probably got all this extra attention and learned stuff a whole lot more quickly than the rest of us dying away in school.

“Are the other guys angry about you having to push stuff off?” I take my chances and see if he will continue answering questions.

“The complete opposite.” he informs. “They passed before me and, of course, I never did.” he sounds upset, maybe even hurt. “I think they are happy to have some time off. We are all a little sick of each other after the last tour.”  
I try not to smile as I realize my assumptions were correct. The other members of the band are the same age as Brendon is, so if they graduated before him it must have bugged him.

“Once I’m done with the last two credits, I’m leaving that shit-hole.” he says still sounding upset.

“You seem to be fitting in nicely.” I mention. He really is. He got a straight ticket to being popular. It’s not something I ever particularly wanted, but it wouldn’t be bad to have a shit load of friends, even if they are completely incompetent.

He hums in agreement and starts drumming his fingers on his thigh that is just audible over the music playing. “It’s only because I’m famous or something.”  
I swallow nervously, the atmosphere getting more intense. I guess Brendon probably assumed he got all his friends over being famous, which with Gabe and Jon, he is probably right. Part of me feels bad and the other part doesn’t. After so many awful years of getting picked on and yelled at for no particular reason, I wouldn’t mind a bunch of fake friends who acted like they liked me.

“Not that I don’t mind Gabe and them.” he declares. “It’s just that they seem distant. I have a feeling they talk about me behind my back.”

I take a glance at Brendon who is biting his lip and tugging on his sleeves uncomfortably. He didn’t seem like the type to open up easily to people. I wouldn’t want to admit that I think my so-called friends are talking about me badly. At least I know that he trusts me a little.

“They aren’t the best of people.” I mumble, kind of regretting it because they still are Brendon’s friends.

“How would you know?” he asks me quickly. At first, I think he said it a little harshly, but then I realize he really does want to know.

“Uh, well, they used to...push me around a little.” I confess, feeling my cheeks get hot. I don’t steal a glance at how Brendon looks now.

“Really?” he asks incredulously. “What did they do?”

I feel my chest constrict. I knew if I said something he would be worried. I didn’t expect him to be this worried. I can just barely make out his doe eyes in my peripheral vision and he doesn’t look happy.

“Look, I don’t want to talk about it.” I shrug.

“Oh.” he goes. “Alright. Hey, can I go to band practice with you tonight?”

“Why? It really isn’t that exciting.” I say. I don’t want him there at all.

“Please?” he begs, his eyes pleading when I tear my eyes away from the road to be met with his brown ones.

I sigh and go back to the road. “Fine.”


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
As soon as we walk into my house, I mentally slap myself for not telling Brendon to wait in the car. I remember my parents mentioning to me that they would be home early today because they had to go out with some ‘friends’. I love my parents and all, but they were just embarrassing to bring people around. 

I toe off my shoes and watch as Brendon carefully unties his and pulls them off each foot. We go downstairs and I assume my parents left already. They would have yelled at me by now. I lead him to my room, which he’s already been in, and I quickly pick out the things I need. I notice Brendon in the corner of my room by my bookshelf, looking through the various titles and genres. I am careful to grab my black picks this time. 

“Wow, you have them all.” Brendon says, picking up my entire stack of Established Heroes CD’s. “Hide and Seek, Illusion, Empty Eyes, and the Live in LA. I haven’t seen the actual copies in a while.” he names off their albums, staring intently at each cover. If it didn’t make me look weird, I would point out to him that I have Footnote In History, their super old, first EP, somewhere.

“Come on,” I tell Brendon and he is suddenly brought out of his trance. “I want to get something to eat before we leave.” 

Brendon puts the CD’s away where he found them and stands up, glancing around the room like he’s looking for something. I’m about to ask but he practically jogs out of my room and I am left to follow. 

We clunk up the stairs and slowly make our way into the kitchen. My brain freezes up as I see my parents sitting at the kitchen table, angry looks on their faces. At first I think it’s because of something I did. Did they find out about the vodka we took at the family reunion? They wouldn’t care even if they did find out. I was usually a good kid because I never had anyone to mess around with. I couldn’t do something dangerous or daring things with Pete because we never hang out. If I did happen to get in trouble for something strange, my parents would just push it under the rug and I wouldn’t do it or speak about it again. 

My mind races to several other options until I realize how far away they are from each other at the table. Next I notice uneaten plates of food set out in front of them. They have dangerous eyes leering into each other’s presence. I tense up a little as realization dawns on me. They were fighting. It makes sense why they didn't call up now. They haven’t fought in a long time. I am probably wrong, though. They probably fight when I’m gone. Their marriage is just barely hanging on, me being the only reason they are still together. I feel bad. I don’t want them to be that way for me.

“Hey...guys.” I say quietly. 

My mom gives me a worn out smile and then gives a warning look to my father. I think she was trying to be coy about it, but failed. “Ryan, Brendon, hi.” 

“Brendon’s coming with me to practice.” I explain. “We were just going to get some food before we left.” 

“Practice?” my dad asks. I sag my shoulders a little as I turn away from him, disappointed, and open one of the cupboards to look for food. 

“The band.” I barely whisper. 

“You’re still doing that?” 

I bite my cheek as I hold back rude comments. If it would have been just us, I would have let the comment roll off me. My dad has always hated the whole band idea I had. But Brendon is here, and look where he’s gotten with his band. 

“Yeah,” I say coldly. “Yeah, I am.” 

I’m sure he is nodding his head grumpily as I retrieve two apples off the counter and hurry off towards the stairs without any parting messages to my parents. I feel Brendon’s eyes on me and I’m sure he is confused, maybe even offended. I don’t offer an explanation as we slip into the car and I hand him an apple and put mine down since my appetite is no longer there. 

The car ride is silent, minus the music that is playing loudly. My brain is swirling with ideas for lyrics, but I don’t pull over. I regret letting Brendon come. At least he isn’t asking about my parents. He does ask if I’m going to eat my apple. I say no and he starts devouring it. 

When we arrive, everyone is amazed how I got Brendon to come with me. I realize that I don’t see him as a giant celebrity that much anymore. I see him more as a friend I am painfully trying to prove I am cool to. 

“I am a big fan!” Alex says, wide smile donning his lips. “I’m Alex.”

“I think we all are.” Spencer laughs nervously. He’s fumbling with his fingers and obviously trying hard to keep eye contact. “Spencer.” 

“I’m Dallon.” he chimes in. 

“Thanks.” Brendon gives them all his famous smile. “Do you guys play shows?” he asks, subtly trying to change the subject from himself to us. 

“Here and there.” Alex speaks, because he tends to be the leader of the band. “We haven’t recently, though.” 

“Well, I’m just here to listen.” Brendon says, stepping into the corner where I gave him an extra chair. 

No one has yet to ask him why he is here in the first place. Since he is Brendon Urie, none of us really want to interrogate him. I just assume he is interested in my music. As a professional musician, you can imagine he just wants to see what our band can do, if he likes the music, et cetera. 

“From the beginning of the set?” Alex asks, and I realize he is looking at me for confirmation. He usually looks at Dallon. 

I feel a smug smile spread on my face as I nod my head. I quickly set my fingers on the correct chord and start playing the complicated rhythm until I hear Spencer kick into the song and the rest of the band follows suit. Alex sings the same lyrics we always start with at rehearsals and Dallon and I both sing our back up parts, our voices quite different but harmonizing nicely. 

I feel myself starting to get lost in the music that I co-created. I like everything we’ve made. Not in the way you like your favorite musician and you have to put their songs on repeat and you read the lyrics like they are your bible. More like, I like my stuff because I am proud of them. They all took a lot of time to produce and I like the way they sound. 

We finish our whole six song set without any major mess-ups or Brendon saying anything. I am curious to hear what he thinks. As I say goodbye to the guys and Brendon tells them that he likes their stuff, I wait for them to leave. I am hoping Brendon will actually tell me specifically what he thinks. I can understand that he might be worried that if he says he doesn’t really like our stuff to his own fans he’ll scar them deeply. Maybe he won’t have the same thoughts for me. 

The guys finally leave and it’s my turn to put away all the extra stuff lying around. “So, what did you think?” I ask nervously. 

“I already told you.” he shrugs. 

“No,” I shake my head. “You told them. I wanna know what you think as a friend, not a person you just met.”  
“It was really good.” Brendon smiles. “But, those weren’t your lyrics.” I guess I was expecting a ‘but’ in that sentence, I just wasn’t expecting him to point out that. 

“How do you know?” I challenge him, even though I am pretty certain he knows they still aren’t mine. 

“I read yours.” he points out. “They were...different.” 

“A good or bad difference?” 

Brendon checks the room for other people and I almost laugh. “Between you and I, better.” 

I smirk. “Thanks.” 

“So, why don’t they use yours?” 

That is a question I have run through my mind a few times before and I really have no definite answer. I guess I don't have the guts to show them what I’m writing. I always have a grave fear that they are complete shit and I won’t get taken seriously after that point. It seems too late to pull out my lyrics and show them now, though. 

“I don’t like to show people my lyrics.” I shrug, not wanting elaborate. 

“I read them.” 

“You were the first.” I mention. “And I wasn’t exactly there to tell you not to.”

“Shit, really?” he looks like he is genuinely worried about it. “Sorry, I guess I am just used to writing for the band. It’s like, if you write something, you have to show them or else it’s kind of a waste.” 

“So, you aren’t really writing for yourself?” I blurt out. I quickly turn from him and take down the last remaining microphone. 

“Maybe.” he whispers, just loud enough for me to hear him. 

The next morning I am outside of Brendon’s apartment, nearly falling asleep. I lay my head on the wheel as I hum along to an old song that comes on shuffle. I force my eyes to stay open and wait for Brendon and try not to fall asleep. After what feels like an eternity, I pick my head up and check the time. It is fifteen minutes past the usual time he is out here. School is going to start soon. 

I slowly turn off my ignition and exit my car. He must have slept in late. It seems like a jackass move to just leave him there and get to school on time. At least if I’m late, so is he. When I open the door to the different stairs, I know which one is his because the door is glass. I stride up them, and knock hesitantly on the door. No one answers for a minute, so I try to let myself in. 

Luckily for me, Brendon has the door unlocked and I walk into his apartment for the first time. It’s nothing like I imagined. Everything is in order, probably only because he doesn’t seem to have a multitude of things to have lying around. Right through the door you enter a kitchen to your right and a living room to your left. I don’t see Brendon anywhere so I venture into one of the rooms. 

I shudder a little as I notice Brendon on the floor of, what appears to be, his bedroom. He has his back against the wall and his legs tucked into his body. His head had fallen into his knees and I notice small whimpers and sniffles coming from his small frame. 

“Brendon?” I choke out. 

He whips his head up instantly, a hurt and confused look on his usually happy face. The veins in his eyes are very prominent and strained, and tears are cascading down his white complexion. He tugs his legs closer to his chest and wraps his arms around them. I feel slightly bad, because I see this fucked up beauty in the scene. It looks like something straight out of a movie or book or something. I want to remember it. What is wrong with me? I inch forward, afraid he might freak out. 

“What’s w-wrong?” I stumble through my words. I have never been good at comforting people. 

“How did you get in?” he croaks. 

I twist my body towards the door awkwardly and point to that general direction. “It was unlocked, and you weren’t coming out, and I really thought you slept in, and sorry.” I ramble. 

He puts his head back into his knees and mumbles something that sounds like an apology. His shoulders are shaking and I have a feeling I made him feel worse. I quickly walk up to him and sit on the ground, leaning against the same wall. I wrap my arm awkwardly around him and sit closer. People do that when they want to comfort, right? 

“What’s wrong, Bren?” I use his nickname I have never said to him nervously and wait for a reply. He doesn’t say anything, so I poke his shoulder slightly. His shaking has stopped. “You already read my weird lyrics and met my dysfunctional family, it obviously can’t be too bad.” Isn’t it like if you talk about your problems you feel better?

I hear Brendon clear his throat slightly. “My-my sister...she has cancer.” I don’t know if it was the shock of Brendon hearing it out loud or what, but he starts shaking and crying again. I push closer to him. 

“Hey,” I whisper, hopefully soothingly. “It’s alright. She’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.”   
“Ryan...she could die.” he hyperventilates and removes his face from its hiding place. His face is red and blotchy, stained with even more tears than last time. 

“She could just as easily live, too.” I point out to him. 

“And my...brother’s coming to stay with me for a while.” 

I have never had a brother or a sibling at the least, but it seems nice. “That’s a good thing, right? You’ll have support.” 

“My brother’s an asshole.” he whines, still staring at me with wide, glassy eyes. “He’s always wanted me to be anything but myself. I know he just wants to come here and convince me to go to college or some shit. He doesn’t understand my music; my lifestyle.” 

“I understand that.” I remember my dad’s pestering speeches about how music won’t support me, blah, blah, blah. “But, I mean, you already showed them. You made something of yourself.” 

“Not what they wanted me to be!” he yells, then drops his head onto my shoulder. I wouldn't let it happen for anyone else, but it felt really nice in this messed up way. “My whole family thinks I’m one big fuck up!” 

“What do you mean?” I scrutinize the boy crying on the floor beside me. “You proved yourself worthy to millions! You still care about your parents’ acceptance? You’re Brendon Urie: famous mastermind. You don’t need them.” I say, like it’s rehearsed. I didn’t become a super fan of Brendon to watch him crumble by some words his parents mentioned to him. 

I watch Brendon pick up his head and stare at me for a few seconds. His soft brown eyes, rimmed with water droplets, staring straight into me. I feel the urge to look away, because I have never been good at eye contact, but Brendon makes it impossible. I’m about to mention school, but he leans in quickly, before I can even utter a word. His lips are suddenly on mine and my brain goes into overdrive. Before I can react, they are off me. 

“God,” Brendon mutters, and I’m not completely sure why. “Sorry, uh, I shouldn’t have done that.” 

I’m staring at him, my eyes probably bugging out like crazy. Did he just kiss me? I blink a few times and continue to see Brendon looking at me, horrified. I tug on my sleeves from my sweater and finally lose all eye contact. 

“We should probably get to, um, school.” I swallow. We are obviously late and I had already opted out of just skipping school. 

“Yeah.” he jumps up and wipes his tears with his sleeve. “One sec.” he runs off to what I guess is the bathroom and I slowly pick my confused body off the ground.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5   
Not long after that, I am in my first class. Pete is next to me finishing up some last minute homework. I tap my legs nervously. I feel like it’s written all over my face. Look who Brendon Urie just kissed even though he has a girlfriend! I shiver a little and Pete looks up at me like I have completely lost it. 

“Why were you late?” he asks. 

“Alarm clock didn’t go off.” I lie. I don’t think Brendon wants me running around and telling people that I saw him crying.

“Ha,” Pete barley smiles as he says it. “I bet Brendon liked that.” 

I slide on a half-smile and try to look innocent. It seems like the hardest thing right now. “He didn’t mind.” I try to assure. 

“Did he say anything worthy?” he asks me. 

I widen my eyes and try to figure out what he’s saying. I then figure out he means his blog. “No, uh, not really.” 

“Nothing?” Pete narrows his eyes at me. “Doubt it.” 

“What do you want to know? He likes Lucky Charms?” I say, maybe a little harshly as I defend myself. 

“Maybe.” he shrugs off the tone of my voice. “Anything better?” 

I drop my apprehensive shoulders and sigh. “Well, he said that everyone in the band finished school before him.” 

“That’s better.” he smiles a little. “Thanks, man.” 

I don’t bother trying to get into another pointless conversation with Pete. I look around the boisterous classroom and see people I have known since my treacherous days in middle school. For me, friends are usually people I get to know for a while then they leave me. I get close, then they back off. It’s this strange repeating pattern that I have yet to decode. I think that’s the reason I haven’t allowed myself to get close to Pete. I just don’t like having absolutely no one to tell my thoughts, worries, and maybe even feelings to. 

Now, Brendon having kissed me I don’t know what to do. I was kind of hoping I could fall into another friendship, despite the fact I knew it was going to end with him leaving me. I can’t even begin to fathom why he did it. Not to mention, I’m Sarah’s cousin, the girl he is dating. 

The fact that I haven’t really taken into account and I practically refuse to is that I think I might have enjoyed it. A kiss. From a guy. I have had my fair share of kisses from pretty girls that I knew from the start weren’t suited for me and just wanted a few seconds of importance. I bite my lip as I think back to the kiss. Brendon, with his makeup of salty tears and deep chocolate brown eyes, staring at me with this weird implication playing across his face. Maybe he was debating whether to do it or not. Then him leaning in and his lips just barley touching mine. Something about that whole moment was better than most of my previous. 

Suddenly I realize something: is Brendon gay? I mean, I had seen probably an unhealthy amount of interviews about him and I know they mention girlfriends. I guess it’s not like he would actually tell them he was involved with a guy rather than a female. It isn’t in his best interest to set the tabloids, and his fan-base, on fire.   
Mrs. Kit walks in with a bright smile. Thankfully, my first hour was English and she never starts class on time. Some stray students walk in, widening their eyes when they see Mrs. Kit preparing to speak. 

“Sorry for being late, class.” Mrs. Kit apologizes. “I hadn’t really expected there to be a line to use the copy machine.” Some laughs emit from the straight A students who feel the need to make sure the teacher knows that what they are saying is funny. “But, good news, ducks,” Ducks, our informal nickname. “The worksheets are ready!” 

I glance up to see her holding a thick stack of papers. A few kids groan as she starts handing them out. English is my favorite class. I tend to get really good grades and absorb the information easily. It doesn’t hurt that I am skilled in writing and reading. 

“As promised at the beginning of the semester,” Mrs. Kit goes on. “We are having our tremendous group project that I am sure you all are so very excited to participate in. Since I am a good teacher I have chosen your partners; 3 people per group.” 

I stop listening as she starts naming off the groups and check out the stacks of papers that are neatly stapled in the left corner. It’s a writing project, that makes me happy to see. I could do this whole project without a group, so working with other people will be the challenging part. 

I look up and see two people seated awkwardly next to me. I realize Mrs. Kit must have said our group and I didn’t even notice my own name. The first person my eyes come upon is a kid in a loose shirt advertising some brand and tight jeans that, for some reason, don’t get him beat up. Gabe. I cringe a little as he tries to give me a weak smile, a sly attempt to repair broken grounds that I don’t think should be just yet fixed. 

The other person is a girl that I don’t recognize. I have been in this class for two weeks and I have no idea who she is. She has brown hair that’s down to her waist and bangs that sweep into her matching eyes. She doesn’t exactly look like one of the popular girls that strut around the school looking like whores, but she is pretty enough to be one. 

“I’m Keltie.” she smiles politely, obviously noticing my staring. 

“Ryan.” I say, eyeing Gabe nervously. 

“You’re good at this shit, right?” Gabe asks, staring at me. He knows the answer, but still asks like he forgets. 

“Yes.” I say confidently. 

“So I’ll get a good grade?” he smirks. 

“If you do something.” I say, ice freezing on my words. He can tell, I’m sure. 

“Come on, Ryan.” he says, smile still on his face. “You still can’t have this whole thing against me. It’s not my fault.” 

I want to attack him the moment he says it. Not his fault, my ass. Gabe Saporta is the reason that I can’t think of my freshman year without wanting to curl in a hole. He ruined a lot of shit for me. Now here he is saying that it isn’t his fault. Who’s is it then?

Before I can give Gabe a piece of my mind, Mrs. Kit starts explaining the project even though the papers tell what to do perfectly fine. We have to write a three page essay about one of the topics listed. Basically, it’s supposed to see how well we read the required books this semester, show our writing abilities, and test how well we work with partners. 

We have the rest of the hour devoted to talking about it and planning who does what. I instantly find out that Keltie is really into the whole writing thing, so she won’t be hard to work with. Gabe, on the other hand, is lacking any common interest in the project. He is making snide remarks to everything I say and then laughing with Jon, whose group is conveniently situated right next to us. 

“Can you grow up, Gabe?” I say, maybe a little too harshly after he makes a sexual joke after something I said. Today has been weird and I don’t need Gabe to remind me. 

“Lighten up, Ross.” he says, crumpling up his empty idea paper for the group and throwing it at my shoulder. I shrug it off and sigh as I return to my whole page. 

I notice that Keltie isn’t even asking what’s up between us. Maybe she is just used to the guys at this school who are all douche bags. Or maybe she doesn’t want to know about how Gabe used to be my best friend then decided to do some nasty things after I took his not-official girlfriend. Was everyone that immature in freshman year?

“What about a party?” Gabe asks, looking at me seriously. “There’s this one tonight. You could go, we could catch up.” 

I try to see if he’s joking but he looks completely serious. “I doubt it, Gabe.” 

I’m drumming nervously on my steering wheel as I wait for Brendon to emerge from the school doors and make his way to my car. I haven’t seen him since this morning after our silent drive. He just kept sniffling the entire car ride, clutching onto his phone like it was his lifeline. I am kind of hoping he and I can just forget about it. Well, at least for between us. With his sister and everything, he should have better things to worry about. 

I feel a blast of summer-turning-fall wind hit me and see Brendon, a lot happier than he was this morning. He is even smiling. I can barely make eye contact, but when I do I think he can tell I’m confused. Not that he shouldn't be happy or anything. 

“My brother,” he clears his throat. “he’s not coming until Monday.” 

“Oh.” I say, smiling feebly. I quickly turn on the ignition so I don’t have to look into his eyes. “That’s good…I guess.” 

Maybe it’s the way my voice is shaking or my nervous eyes that can’t seem to meet his properly, but he sighs. I can tell he’s about to talk about it the second he does it. “Look, this morning...I just,” maybe he didn’t have that good of a story planned as I thought he did. “I really shouldn't have, and I’m still not sure why I did it, but sorry. If you told Sarah or whatever I wouldn’t, like, blame you.”

I grip the steering wheel apprehensively. Does he really think I would do something like that? “I wasn’t going to tell Sarah.” I whisper. “Let’s just, just forget about it.” 

“Oh. Okay.” is all Brendon says. I think he might sound…disappointed. That scares me a little. “So, here’s the thing, Gabe and Spence are like begging me to go to some party tonight. I usually reject any of their invites, but since I have been having a shit day and I know when my brother gets here I will be on house arrest, we should go. I have a feeling they are going to leave me by myself and stuff.” he rambles.

I absentmindedly bite my lip and try to find an excuse. I’m not made for parties. I’m an awkward boy that belongs in his bedroom until five in the morning with his laptop burning his thigh. This is Brendon Urie asking me to party with, though. 

“I guess.” I say quietly. 

“Yes!” he says happily. “Let’s just do something at my place until the party.”

“Where is it?” 

“Gabe’s house.” I try not to sigh too loudly as I hear it. Of course, Gabe invited me to his own party. Granted, he probably has a party every weekend so I shouldn't feel too flattered. 

“We might as well walk.” I say, assuming there will be alcohol involved. High school parties always have some kind of liquor. Either way, best if I drank enough to distract myself from the confusion stirring in me. 

“You know where he lives?” Brendon’s looking at me weirdly. 

Sure, I know. Not that far away from me. Even in walking distance so you can toilet paper each other’s houses. Close enough that you can sneak out of your house at one in the morning to smoke cigarettes with each other even though you both are pretty innocent. 

“Unfortunately.” I mumble as we park in front of the apartment complex. I grab my keys of the ignition and grab my phone. My parents probably won’t notice or worry about my absence, so no need to tell them. 

For the next three hours, Brendon and I watch crappy shows on MTV and eat his abundance of junk food that he keeps in every cabinet. We don’t really talk much, besides making side comments on how awful the show is we are watching, but making no attempt to find something else. We sit on his leather couch a good foot away and it’s still slightly uncomfortable. 

I wonder if I am the only one still thinking about this morning. I mean, it was his sister getting cancer then him kissing me. He just doesn’t seem to portray any emotion as he watches the opening clips to Teen Mom, while I am nervously tapping my foot to an erratic beat. He seems unaffected but I have a feeling he’s just hiding whatever emotion is running through him.

Once Brendon has put in his contacts and fixed his hair, we are walking to Gabe’s house. The streetlights are already shining on the slightly dark roads. I’m trying to walk slowly, in hopes the party will just be done by the time we get there. Yeah, no such luck. His wide house is giant compared to the others around. Everyone knows that Gabe has a lot of money, he practically flaunts it. Since his parents are always on some business venture, he can party all the time. 

I let Brendon take the lead as he knocks on the door. I can already hear music pouring into the streets. The same music that plays repetitively on the radio. Awful songs with big name celebrities always get airtime. Soon enough, a kid pulls open the door and I recognize him instantly. 

“Shit!” he yells. Brendon and I just eye him nervously. “I didn’t think Gabe was serious. Wow, he actually knows you.” 

I realize that he is just surprised Brendon Urie is here. I guess I have gotten so used to being with him he isn’t a celebrity as much in my eyes. The kid opens the door so we can come in and doesn’t say anything to me, thankfully. We start walking in and I hear his voice again. 

“Ryan?” I turn around, sighing. Of course. 

“Ty.” I manage a nice smile. I had already decided I wasn’t going to be a cold bastard the entire night. I might be here with Brendon, but that doesn’t mean they can’t all beat me up. 

“Ha!” Ty just laughs at me, opening the door for more people. “You and Gabe...friends again?” he turns back to look at me. Probably noting the fact that I am not so short anymore, still pretty gangly, but definitely not as nerdy as before. I stand up straighter hoping to give me extra points. 

“Not really.” I mumble then give him a small smile. “He’s got you working the door, I see.” 

Ty is Gabe’s younger brother. He’s the awkward freshman now. With Gabe his brother, though, it won’t be hard for him to get known. We used to have Ty do different jobs when we were friends. Whether it was him covering for us or us having him get things, we owned him. 

“As usual.” he says coldly, then goes back to the drink that he must have set down to open doors. He must take after his brother when he drinks: gets angry very easily. 

A chorus of voices erupts from the other side of the room and they are all directed towards us. Well, more Brendon. A group of kids, that I’m sure I could name off each person individually, walks up to us. 

“Brendon!” Gabe yells, swinging his arms around his neck. “And Ryan! Took up my offer, I see.” There is no doubt in my mind that Gabe is wasted. This strange familiarity dawns in the back of my head as I look around. I could probably walk around this house blindfolded. 

“Yeah.” I try to be pleasant or cool or whatever I think they want me to be. Let me go back to being someone I’m not to impress the big kids. 

“Well, good, man!” he screams over the song that’s just coming to an end. “Have fun, you guys.” he withdraws his hand from Brendon’s neck and stomps off, the rest of the group, too. 

“He doesn’t waste time.” Brendon says, obviously referring to the amount of alcohol Gabe has already consumed. 

The thing is, Gabe is just like me. He’s just trying to find a way to forget about everything else. Not the healthiest way, but it’s effective. I don’t get the chance to do it often, either. I am going to snatch up this opportunity, even if it means I might regret it in the morning. 

Brendon and I head over to a cooler with various drinks stacked not-so neatly. The music changes to the next song and I refrain from laughing too hard. It’s one of Established Heroes most popular songs. I pick up a beer for Brendon and me and hand one to him with a crooked smile on my face. 

“I know this song.” I say, trying to keep a straight face. I can tell Brendon hates that it’s his song playing. I can practically feel all the eyes in the room on us. Brendon just gives a sad smile and sips his now open beer. “You never talk about Established Heroes.” I go into fan mode. 

“It’s never on my mind.” he counters. 

I raise my eyebrows at him. “Never?” I say, motioning towards the speakers that Gabe, or Ty, must have set up. 

“Well, now, yeah I guess.” he laughs. “What do you want to know?” 

Before I can even think of a good question, I notice how well Brendon seems to fit in here. He just seems so casual leaning back against Gabe’s brown painted walls, holding his beer in his right hand and his left at his side. He’s not the least bit worried about the various hordes of people jumping around and knocking into us every once in a while. I have a feeling that he is used to parties because of the band. I bet I look like I was just plucked out of a Best Buy isle. Brendon takes another sip of beer, making me feel even more self-conscious. Even the way he does that makes him look like he deserves to be here. 

“Are you guys recording a new album soon?” I pause. “Are you writing music?” 

“I’ve been writing more lately, but we haven’t talked about the next album.” he says, nonchalantly. He notices my flicker of fear. “God, don’t worry, Ryan. We’re probably still going to do it. Just we need time. Plus, I think we are touring again soon.” 

“Again?” 

“Once I graduate, my manager will have us on another United States tour in no time. Probably will help us write, though. We all tend to write best on the road.” 

Sure, I could bombard him with questions: What is the song ‘Lion’s Den’ really about? Did your bus actually hit a tree two tours ago? Is your favorite color really cerulean? I don’t. I force myself to keep my mouth shut and nod happily. I really am happy, because a new album sounds awesome. It would be cool to see them live again, too. But the tour and album producing just means him leaving. I like our weird friendship we have got going already. 

“Don’t look so happy for us.” Brendon says sarcastically. I laugh and watch him down more beer. Looks like Brendon doesn’t waste time either. “So what do you even do at these parties?” 

“You’re looking at it.” I say, unimpressed. 

Really the party consisted of people jumping up and down and grinding to the music blaring, making out and feeling each other up, playing beer pong, and vomiting. I had been to a few parties like this and managed to not get completely fucked over before the night ended. I’m sure normal people would just go up to a group of people and talk to them, or find a pretty girl to talk to and potentially have sex with after drinking too much, but no. I was the type to stay concealed to a corner and find one or two people to talk to. I don’t think Brendon liked my way of partying. 

After a beer, then some vodka, and some fancy drinks I don’t remember the names of, and then some shots, I’m not so anxious anymore. Brendon, Jon, Gabe, and a handful of other people are yelling at each other, telling their drunken stories. A bunch of girls are also surrounding us, looking like they are dying to jump any of us. 

I felt this longing in the pit of my stomach since I got here. I could tell that I wanted to befriend Gabe again. I wanted us to get back to our crazy antics and have more inside jokes. I know that after everything he did, I shouldn't want his friendship, but I can’t help it. He’s one of those guys that can be friends with everyone. Not to mention, my drunken state narrows my thinking. 

Some girl is screaming at her boyfriend for something stupid. Apparently he took Crystal into the closet with him. She thinks Crystal blew him. The boyfriend says it wasn’t anything. I think the boyfriend’s lying, no doubt. 

“What time is it?” I slur. 

“One A.M.” Jon informs me. I bite my lip and slip out my phone. No messages from my parents but I bet they will notice me not being at home soon. 

“Just sleep over at my house, Ry.” Brendon offers. He’s never called me ‘Ry’ before. 

I shrug and type my parents a quick text message. Since at the family reunion Brendon couldn’t drink, I didn’t get to find out what kind of drunk he was. Now I know. He seems to turn off his respective, thought out sentences and trades them for offensive, but pretty funny, remarks. 

The party is kind of dying around us. Couples are practically naked on the couches and kids are leaving, but not before puking on the lawn. Jon isn’t as bad as I pegged him for. He was technically my replacement, but he’s a good guy. I guess he’s really into music, too. He keeps joking around and making us all laugh until we’re clutching onto our stomachs. 

“You wanna leave now, Ryan?” Brendon asks, all the way from the other side of the group.   
I nod, and we say our goodbyes. I give Gabe that half-hug thing and he adds his number back to my phone and suddenly I feel better. I’m happy I came to the party. Even if he invited me so he can get a good grade in English, I don’t mind. 

Once we are outside, on our walk home, I breathe in and out. The air in his house smelled strongly of weed or some other drugs, alcohol, and sweat. Don't ask me how they got the drugs, but this is California. It is nice in the fresh air. I watch as Brendon stumbles off the curb and nearly face plants the cement. 

“You okay there?” I laugh, practically doing the same thing he did. 

“Fuck off!” he yells, but in a nice way. “Do you remember where my apartment is?” he asks with these eyes the size of saucers. 

I laugh nervously. “I think I forgot.” I tease him. 

“You remember, I can tell.” his eyes are sparkling under the streetlights. 

“How can you tell?” 

“You’re really easy to read.” he explains, nodding his head excitedly. “You’re like a book! I never liked reading, though.” he says, a profound look on his face. He pauses slightly, then starts laughing at what he says like he’s a comedian. 

“You can’t read me!” I dispute, a smile on my face. “And if you could, I would be like Shakespeare: fucking complicated to read and understand.” Even with a little too many drinks running through my veins I’m still a nerd. 

“Worth it, though.” Brendon remarks. I give him a look and we are on his street with his apartment complex. 

“You still have your key, right?” I check, because he seems really scatterbrained. 

He digs through his tight jean pockets and produces a silver key. I take it from him, assuming there is no way he could manage opening a locked door, at this point. Hopefully I can. 

"You know," Brendon says as we walk to his door. "Today during study hall I cried in the bathroom. The entire hour. I'm such a baby." 

I stop walking and turn around see him. He only looks slightly pained. I wondered a little how he seemed very unaffected about his sister. I guess with so many years as a celebrity he learned to hide his emotions. I could tell that if it wasn't for the drinking he would have never told me.  
"Brendon, I'm sorry." I tell him. "You're not a baby. You have a reason to cry."   
We are at his door and I slide the lock in and after maybe a minute the door swings open. Brendon quickly pushes past me and slips off his shoes. I take my time retrieving the key from the lock and closing the door. The second it’s shut I feel Brendon push me into the wall. His hot breaths are marking my neck and I am staring at his eyes, confused and maybe a little scared. 

“Brend-” I say, but get cut off by lips on mine, for the second time today. 

Instead of the soft, savory kiss I got this morning, I get urgency and sloppy lips. I don’t move my lips for a few beats, rejecting my feelings. Brendon grabs at my hips and I realize I don’t care if my brain is freaking out at my sudden urges. I kiss him back and he pushes closer to me, my back now flat against the wall. I can feel his fingers tightening their grips, and it’s unfamiliar. Usually I’m the one to do that to girls. When Brendon pulls back for air, his lips are reddened and he looks tremendously happy. 

“You wanna know something?” he says, his voice suddenly lower than it was two minutes ago. He’s still pushing me against the wall, hands on me. I nod hesitantly. “I have wanted to do that for so long.”   
I swallow nervously. “What about...Sarah?” 

I mainly drank a lot so I wouldn’t have to think of this morning, but it just keeps coming up. I have never thought of a guy in the way I am suddenly thinking of Brendon. He just keeps confusing me. Sarah is just an excuse at this point. I don’t really care too much about their relationship.

Brendon doesn’t answer, just puts his lips back onto mine. He slides his right hand up a little and fists my shirt, his hands grazing my sensitive skin. His tongue is swiping at my bottom lip, asking for me to open my mouth. I barley do, but it’s enough. His knee suddenly pushes into my crotch and I flush as I realize how good it feels. Brendon pulls back abruptly then wriggles himself off from me, wiping his mouth on his forearm. He looks like he wants to continue, but is restraining himself from it. 

“It’s nothing.” he mutters, not daring to meet my eyes. “I just wanted to kiss you. Sarah doesn’t need to know that.”

He goes off into his bedroom and I know I’m meant to follow him. It might be nothing to him, but it feels like a hell of a lot for me. He obviously isn’t confused whatsoever by kissing guys pretty intimately. I was. I feel my heart against my rib cage as I slide off my shoes, still feeling bothered. What was Brendon Urie doing to me?


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6  
When I was ten years old my father got me a cheap guitar on a Saturday. We went to a music store and asked me which one I liked. I shrugged my shoulder, not having a clue what a guitar was and not caring. All I wanted to do was spend time with my friends outdoors. When he picked one out for me he looked wearily at me. Maybe he was regretting the trip in its entirety. He had to go to work in the morning, had taxes to fill out, had friends to see. The first thing we did when he got home was sit down in the living room and he started his first lesson. At the time, I was uninterested. 

I listened, though. Back then I was so attentive. I was too young to be realize all the wrong around me and figure out that someone would always be better. Then I knew, literally knew, that I was destined to be the best. I gained more years, more seconds on the grieving Earth and picked up some things. I realized how far away everything was for me. I wasn’t going to be the best. I could at least pretend for a while. I could disguise my eroding hopes and cover them with shining aspirations that couldn’t be done.

The only thing that kept me going was that reminder in the guitars store. The way he looked at me like he wanted me to become something I wasn’t. He wanted a kid who was overwhelmed by the thought of getting a guitar and learning from his dad. I kept playing because I didn’t want to be his failure of a son. Even at the young of ten I knew that if I practiced for a little longer I could get the chord just right. Then my dad would smile and tell me I did well and we would continue. Instead of going outside with my friends, I stayed inside. Practice. Practice. Practice. 

Practice doesn’t make things perfect; it simply makes it more attainable. There is no way you can do things perfect. Especially in music. You can be slower, faster, pushing the strings down harder, changing dynamics, making full rests, strumming harder. Getting closer to perfect, but never really getting there.   
Maybe a year after lessons, my dad simply stopped. He said he had no time and I knew enough. I could manage without his appraisal. I could do it all by myself. I stopped playing for a while. I put the guitar in the corner and barley looked at it for a few years. When I was fourteen, I fell into music face first. I had always enjoyed music, but not the extent I suddenly was at. I had only fragments of life left that made me truly happy and as the angsty pre-teen I was, I listened to music to keep myself together. I started trying to play the songs I had put on repeat and learned them all by ear. 

I usually didn’t play if my dad was home. I cringed at the thought of my dad saying that I played something well. Perhaps I was more scared of him saying that I messed it all up. I wanted to keep playing guitar all to myself. That I did. And still do. 

Keeping to myself has become a second nature. Unfortunately, craving for my dad’s acceptance hadn’t ever stopped. It grew into something worse, possibly vengeance. I wanted to prove to my dad I could impress him. I wanted revenge. I could get acceptance in the form of revenge if I wanted to. 

The next morning I am awoken to a doorknob rattling. I open my eyes to have that ‘oh my god, where am I? Oh wait I stayed at a friends house’ realization. Next, I tense up a little because Brendon has his arm around me, grabbing at my stomach. His chest is touching my back and I can feel his uneven breaths. I try to move a little, but then I remember what woke me up in the first place when it starts speaking.   
“Brendon!” a loud voice yells. 

Brendon jolts up, thankfully removing his arm and pushing himself away. I rub my eyes lazily and see who woke me up way too early. He has dark hair that is a mess on top of his head and brown eyes. I start noticing all these similar traits and fuck this must be his brother. 

“Dan?” Brendon sits up. “I though, I thought you weren’t going to be here until Monday?” 

“I got early tickets, Bren.” he says, like it’s obvious. He’s eyeing me suspiciously and I really want to say something on my behalf. This might look weird, but Brendon just probably misses Sarah or something...Right? “I’m going to go get some water.” 

I sit up to see Brendon, picking at his nails intently. He looks really distressed. Dan’s departed the bedroom, leaving us to be awkward. “This is bad.” he mutters. 

“Why?” 

“Dan is kind of convinced that I’m not completely straight and since he is super religious, like the rest of my family, he will bug me with question. He’s probably going to make me go to church now, too.” he groans.   
I scrunch my eyebrows together and give him a look that I hope says: Brendon, you don’t seem completely straight. 

Brendon pushes me playfully, his face lighting up with a smile. “Just because I kissed you doesn’t mean I’m not straight.” he says that part quietly, like he knows Dan was listening to the rest of the conversation. “Plus, I was super drunk.” 

“Just a kiss?” I ask, with a smile on my face even though I’m kind of freaking out on the inside. I had forgotten about last night for a while. 

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it.” he smirks. I must be giving him a disbelieving look because he starts laughing. “I told you I could read you.” 

“Well, I think I’m going to get going so you can bond or whatever with your brother.” I say, ignoring his waiting eyes. It’s like he wants me to agree with him and say I liked it. I couldn’t. I wont. 

“You’re gonna miss the time of your life.” Brendon says with a frown on his face. 

“The worst time, I presume.” 

I get out of the warm covers and grab my school bag. I just wore my clothes to bed last night, refusing to borrow any of Brendon’s pajamas or just sleep in my boxers. It was probably weird, and definitely not comfortable for me, but after what happened, everything seemed really uncomfortable. Now, in the morning, everything seemed better. The whole event didn’t seem as weird as it did last night. Brendon said it himself: it was nothing. I really wish I could believe that all the way, though. 

I leave Brendon’s house, finding my keys near Dan’s glass of water. I awkwardly make small talk until Brendon explains I have to leave. Thanks for that. Then, I take my car home. I spend the entire ride in silence. It wasn’t that long of a drive, but it feels like an eternity with my thoughts rolling through my head. Was I gay? No. I can’t be. Did I like what Brendon and I did? Well, kind of. Too many contradictions.

I arrive at my house, taking a moment before I get out of the car to fix my hair in the mirror partly thinking it will show that I made out with a guy and actually liked it. I don’t think my parents would be able to tell. The thing is, I could walk in there with my chest heaving, hair sticking up, and swollen lips and they wouldn’t even notice.   
Need to get that thought out of my head. 

I hurry out of my car and into my house. My head has a slight pounding, probably from the drinking and my stomach has a sharp feeling, probably from the thinking. I quietly enter my house and take off my shoes. When I hear footsteps from the kitchen, I tense up. 

“Ryan?” my mom yells out. She walks out to where I can see. Her face seemed a little scared but not too bothered. “Where have you been? I’ve...I’ve been sending texts and calling.” I reach into my pocket and I don’t feel the familiar contours of my phone. 

“Sorry.” I say, looking down. “I think I forgot it at Brendon’s. He’ll bring it to me on Monday or something.”   
She gives me a stern look then walks off. I didn’t notice that her hands were full of loose papers. She’s doing something for work, probably. Always is. I go off into my bedroom and decide to take a shower. I probably smell like party. And probably Brendon. 

When I hear knocking on my door two hours later, I just assume it’s Brendon returning my phone. I walk quickly so that one of my parents don’t open it. When I do, a face I would never guess is at my doorstep. 

“You not have your phone?” he ask before I can say anything. 

“No, I left it at Brendon’s.” 

“Oh,” he nods. “Well, come on, were going shopping.” 

I look at him strangely, but this isn’t the first time Gabe has shown up at my doorstep telling me we are going somewhere. I don’t ask any questions as I lazily walk downstairs, grab my wallet and keys and shout to my parents that I’m leaving. At least I told them. I get into the passenger seat of Gabe’s pristine sports car. 

“Where are we going?” I ask. 

This is too casual for me. It’s like he just decided to pick up our relationship where he left it. We keep driving until he turns on the radio and clears his throat. “Some garden store. Some fuckers took my parents garden gnomes. Why would you even take those?” 

I laugh a little. “So you bring me to help?” 

“You don’t remember?” he asks, side-glancing me to see my confused face. “Remember? In, like, freshman year you and I set them all on fire in the back of my house. Then my mom came home and was pissed.”

Suddenly I do remember the incident. We doused them in gasoline, set them up like dominos, then lit the first one. It was entertaining as hell, but probably not worth the trouble we go into. 

“I do!” I shout, laughing at the memory. 

“Good times we had back then, Ross.” I’m not sure if he has fully warmed up to me, and that’s why he is calling me Ross, or if it is just nostalgia because he always called me that. “So, how was the party?” 

My mind jumps to last night, a lot of a semi-blur. I think I might have danced, which was probably a travesty for the people watching. I drank. A lot. I remember many chunks, but not the night in whole. My brightest memory is when I got to Brendon’s house. I Wasn’t going to bring that up with Gabe, though.

“From what I can remember?” I smirk. “It was really good. Haven’t been to a party like that in a while.” I confess. 

“Been way too long since a Saporta party, huh?” he wiggles his eyebrows at me. I roll my eyes. 

“Yeah, I missed Ty doing pointless shit for us.” 

“Got the little man workin’ the door last night.” he says like he is reminiscing a night I am sure he can barley remember. “The kid’s worse then I was at fifteen.” 

“Sure.” I say, because Gabe must have forgotten a few memories. “You weren’t exactly the purest kid at school.” 

“Yeah, because you already had that position.” he points out. 

I was kind of that weird freshman kid that was always ‘You guys, were going to get caught’ and refused to do anything. I did, in fact, indulge in some things I probably shouldn’t have, but I was never the bad boy. Hopefully, I will never be, either. 

“Can’t all be the bad kids.” I shrug. 

We get to the garden store and we walk in joking around and nearly hitting three cars. When we get in, the sliding doors swoosh open and you can already smell home improvement. The place is enormous, at least a hundred isles full of things I don’t know. I glance around nervously. No maps. 

“You take that side of the store, I’ll take this one.” he points to the right, then the left. “We’ll have to meet up in ten here if you find anything since you don’t have your phone.” 

I nod then we diverge in our own directions. I shuffle across the slippery linoleum floors and hope that I can find the gnomes quickly. We could probably just ask someone, but I don’t think Gabe nor I could manage to do it seriously. Most of the isles I don’t even have to go down, knowing there is nothing I need in them. I get further to the back, where they don’t even bother to put the shiny flooring, just concrete. Maybe I’m getting close? 

“You’re finishing high school and they don’t mind.” a familiar voice pulls me out of my gnome search. “I don’t think the guys would hate you if you took a few years off.”

“A few years?” an incredulous Brendon says. “Do you even understand how long that is for a band to be apart.”   
I go around the corner and I can just barley make out Brendon and Dan through the sparsely stocked shelf. I make it so they can’t see me, and I watch as Dan looks through the paint that is stacked. 

“Take it as a sign, Brendon.” he nods his head. “A band won’t last forever, an education will.” 

“Yeah.” Brendon looks down, his face seemingly saddened. He doesn’t seem to defy his brother this time. For a second I freak out a little, because the inner fan in me doesn’t want him to stop. Then I see it. He has this strong look of distaste on. He’s probably just agreeing with his brother so he will shut up. 

“Have you been going to church since you got off tour?” Dan asks. I flicker my eyes back to Brendon who slumps his shoulders. 

“Once...twice.” he mutters. 

“So, never?” Dan rolls his eyes, outstretching his hand and picking up a can. He adds it the pile of paint supply. 

“I’m not a little kid anymore.” Brendon whines quietly. “I can make my own decisions.” 

“You should be making those decisions with God.” Dan goes on, sounding like the preachers that come to your doors at obscure times of the day with bibles in their hands. 

“I guess I could go more often.” Brendon chews on his lips, probably regretting even uttering the words. 

“See!” Dan says, clutching at Brendon’s shoulder. He looks proudly at him, like his is his master work. His biggest project in the works. Brendon gives him a lopsided smile, then his eyes die out again. “Any new girlfriends, lately?” 

Brendon clenches his jaw almost like he was expecting the question to come up. “No, still Sarah.” 

“Oh,” Dan sighs. “Anyone...else?” What was that even suppose to mean? 

“Dan! God, no.” Brendon fumes, obviously not liking the turn this conversation has taken. 

“Don’t use God’s name in vain, Bren.” he corrects him. “What about the kid...this morning?” he seems like he is trying to remember my name. He gives up quickly.

Brendon looks even more mad when he bring this up. “You know, having friends does entitle having them over for the night.” Brendon says, anger now on his tongue. “You probably don’t, though.” 

“You did seem fairly close.” Were we?

“I can’t control the way I sleep.” he pouts. “I’m just a natural cuddler.” 

I hold in a laugh as I see Dan’s face of disgust. It sinks in how creepy this must be. I’m just standing in isle twenty-six listening to the conversation that I just so happen to be in, in isle twenty-seven. I tug in a sharp, quiet breath and continue listening. I know I should move but I feel frozen to the spot. I want to hear more. 

“Just don’t do anything…” he pauses, maybe trying to find nicer ways to say what he wants to explain to Brendon. “Wrong.” 

He has a fuck load of words, and chooses ‘wrong’. And, I guess, if Brendon and I did do something then it would be wrong. I’m not an overly religious person. Barely a religious person, in general. I’ve been to only a few ‘Church Sunday’s’ and have failed to learn the messages and feel God. The lyrics of my favorite songs were better than any Pastor’s words could ever summon up. I think the reason I was still believing in God was because I was afraid if he was real, I would get judged by harshly. That’s me: hypocritical of every action I make because I worry someone might think wrongly of me. 

“I’m not going to fucking do anything!” Brendon suddenly screams. I don’t think this was a usual thing by the way Dan swivels around quickly. I can’t tell because his face is turned away from view, but I have a feeling he is staring Brendon down. 

“You see what your choices have done.” Dan says, his tone a lot quieter than Brendon’s. 

“Oh, what?! My band? Is that what you’re talking about? William?” Dan doesn’t say anything, but it’s obvious he is referring to it. “Well, fuck you all right? I have done more than you ever will with your sad, pathetic life!”   
Brendon storms off and I quickly shove my hide my face and look intently at the other shelf. He doesn’t notice me and keep walking to the front of the store. I watch Dan rolls his eyes and pick up the paint supplies, hurrying after Brendon. 

Who is William? Why did Dan hate Brendon’s choices so much? He got successful, which is always the hardest part of life. Shouldn't he just be happy for him? 

I spend some time in the back of store, mindlessly look for garden gnomes, and waiting for Brendon and Dan to hopefully leave the store. When I head to the designated spot Gabe told me, he’s already there. In his hands are four chubby gnomes. Gabe looks really happy, like he finally achieved something extraordinary. 

“Hit the jackpot, man!” he then precedes to squeals like a little girl.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7  
“My mom didn’t even notice the difference!” Gabe yells at me. 

I’m at lunch, dining with Gabe’s somewhat tolerable friends. They seem to not mind my existence at their table. At times they even look at me, as if I should put in my thoughts for the conversation. I do, but I still manage to feel detached from the group. 

“Did you find out who took the gnomes?” I ask. 

“Nah,” he waves his hand. “I don’t care. As long as we found the new ones.” 

I nod and turn back to my food. Since Gabe pulled me in line before I could find Pete, no one cut me. I feel kind of bad as I can’t help but to notice Pete sitting by himself. He doesn’t seem to mind it. He used to do it every day before we started talking. I only pick at my pretzel, feeling slightly bad for leaving Pete. 

I know the game I’m playing can only end badly. I know that Gabe will probably get bored of me soon. That’s how all of my friends are. For months we do everything together and become the best of friends. Then, just like that, they disappear. It’s like they realize all my flaws, my issues. I sort of do the same to them, but I can’t just stop being friends with someone. I don’t understand how people can just stop talking to someone altogether.   
I engage in semi-intriguing conversation until I feel the presence of a person next to me. I turn around and see Brendon, wide eyed and staring at me with a half smile on. He told me he didn’t need a ride to school while his brother is here before I left his house on Saturday. I got kind of worried when he wasn’t at school all day. But nonetheless, here he is. 

“Hey,” he greets, his voice sounding kind of nervous. I get really worried. “Can you come talk to me, real quick?” 

I comply with him, and we start walking away from the lunch table without getting consent from anyone else. I’m really nervous now. What if something happened with his sister? What if he wants to talk about us kissing? I am too awkward for this kind of stuff. 

I notice Brendon pull out my phone from his pocket. He gives me an apologetic look and hands it over to me. I check it quickly, realizing I have thirteen missed calls. 

“Sorry, I didn’t realize I had it until this morning.” he explains. 

“Where have you been?” the second I say it, I realize how much I sound like a parent. I just want to know, because that’s what friends do. They get worried. 

“I had a meeting with my manager.” he tells me. “He kept talking to me about the upcoming tour.” 

I nod, smiling a little. I will probably be able to see them live, maybe even go backstage. I might even be able to meet the whole band. The fan in me is screaming. I keep a cool composure on the outside, though. We walk to an empty corner and stop walking. 

“You and Gabe friends now, then?” he turns his eyes to the table. I glance over and see Gabe telling a story using his hands. From here it looks really sexual. It just might be, too. “I thought you despised him.” 

We both laugh. “He seems better now.” I shrug. “So, what’s up?” I ask, still not in the know why he wanted to talk to me by myself. If it was just about Gabe then coming over here was pointless. 

“Uh,” he swallows, as if he has a speech ahead of him. “Well, like I said, I was talking to my manager and stuff. He mentioned that we still haven’t talked about a support band.”

I remember when I went to my first Established Heroes concert it was a split tour. They had two opening acts, and then Established Heroes and the other semi-popular band each had forty minute sets. After that tour, they never needed to be the support band or have split tours. Now, they were the big thing; the main reason to go to the concert. 

“And, like, he named off some bands that we could tour with and shit. I didn’t know any of them. So, I suggested that maybe your band could just come with us. I mean, I know you guys aren’t signed, and you’re all pretty young, but-” 

“What?” I interrupt him. I’m sure I have giant eyes, freaking out like a little kid. Is he serious? 

“You don’t have to, I mean, I just thought it would be cool. And I really do think your band has potential.” 

“Are you serious?” I now ask, tired of thinking it. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he says, sounding completely confused 

I realize he is dead serious. He wants our completely invisible band to go on tour with Established Heroes. They have giant venues and crazy fans. My band doesn’t even have a name. It’s weird to even think of touring with them all. He’s still looking at me, wondering. I feel a smile spread on face. 

“Yes!” I almost shout. “Of course!” 

I see his face light up. “That’s great!” he clears his throat. I can sense what’s coming. “Well, Andy said that he would have to, you know, come and see you guys practice. I know that your music is good, though. He’ll say yes.” 

“Okay.” I nod, a little professional. “Thank you…” 

It feels weird saying it out loud. He seriously deserves it, though. It isn’t a sure thing yet, but he has faith in something I am doing. I have so many doubts about everything I do, so to get his acceptance means the world. He is who inspired me to start playing guitar again. 

He smiles like he did something right. I feel a slight discomfort set in. Maybe this is all so he can feel better about himself. He can do something for a fan and all the fans are grateful. I push the thought out of my head and try to be happy. Since I’m a writer I find myself bottling up my feelings. I try to save them for later or when I’m writing something. I just carry them around. If you strike one emotion for me, you’ll probably pluck a few more. 

“You’d have to miss school and everything...but your parents wouldn’t mind, right?” 

Truthfully, I haven’t even let myself think of my parents. I don’t really care what they think. It would kill me if they got in my way. I finally found a way to take revenge. The best form of revenge is success. 

“They won’t mind.” I shrug. “And if they do, I won’t care.” 

“Speaking of your parents, you guys should come to Sarah’s house tonight. A few people are coming. Sarah told me to tell you.” 

“Uh…” I don’t know of a way to tell him that we never go to family gatherings because we don’t really like spending time and taking the effort. 

“Sarah said you don’t really go to those kinds of things.” Brendon mutters disappointedly. 

I bite my lip. I really don’t want to go and it would be a hard sell on my parents, but I feel like I owe it to Brendon. He is willing to take my band on tour. Plus, he really looks like he wants me to go. I’d feel bad just to reject him. 

“I could try.” I give in. “My parents are always busy.” Excuses. Lies. I’m trying. 

“Seven?” he smiles broadly. “Promise Dan won’t be there.” 

I forgot all about Dan. I wonder if they are still fighting. Brendon seemed really pissed when I last saw him with his older brother. Dan didn’t seem like a lot of fun, though. He just criticized Brendon after he made a name for himself. Why does he still care?

“Like I said, I’ll try.” I manage. 

I obviously tried too hard, because here I am at a family get-together. I find myself staring at a plate full of food that I can’t even name. My parents are at the top of the table with Sarah and Lilly’s parents. Meanwhile, at the end of the table, Brendon and Sarah are directly across from me. They’re smiling knowingly at each other and laughing and stealing kisses. I’m not sure why I am so distressed by this. All my feeling just worry me more. 

“I still can’t believe Ryan Ross is at a family gathering.” Lilly chirps from right next to me. 

I blink and go back to being a normal person and not staring at the couple dead ahead of me. “Better savor it, Lil.” I say dryly. “It could be the one and only.” 

She shoves me playfully and goes back to eating. I wasn’t really kidding. I spent at least a half an hour wrangling my parents into coming. They seemed more opposed of it than me. I could sense it; the way they wanted to flat out ignore my pleading, but knowing they should listen because I’m their only reason left to do anything. They want to make me happy. It’s not something I am fond of. If anything, they are just tearing me apart. 

I take small bites of whatever I’m eating and try not to catch my eye on Brendon and Sarah. He seemed to really want me here, but now he’s just ignoring me. I’m just happy that Lilly is here to not abandon me. The more time I spend staring at the peeling wallpaper behind Brendon, the more upset at him I become. Why do I care? 

“After dinner you should show me some of your recent artwork, Lilly.” I say between bites, trying to distract myself. 

“Yeah!” she exclaims. I knew she would have a whole novel to talk about if I mentioned art around her.

“Ooh!” Sarah now squeals. Lilly and I both look over to her. “Lilly drew the cutest picture of Bren and me. It’s all in cartoon form and we have these giant heads and tiny bodies.” 

“It took me, like, ten minutes.” Lilly shrugs, still mid-bite. Sarah still seems really excited about it. Chances are that it still looks really good, because Lilly is talented, no doubt. 

“Did you tell your parents yet?” Brendon asks, a smile flashing onto his face. He hasn't spoken much. 

“Tell us what?” my dad asks, his hearing perfect even at his old age. 

“No, not yet.” And I didn’t want to do it here, either. 

Everybody is now staring at me, confusion painted onto their family-friendly faces. I swallow nervously and catch an encouraging looking face from Brendon. It’s easy for him. His parent’s probably let him go do what he wanted. It was his dreams. My parents have their own warped imaginations of my dreams. 

“Well, Brendon asked me if my band and I wanted to go on tour with them.” I say, not making eye contact with anyone except for the red wine stain on the perfectly white tablecloth. “You know, as the opener band.” They don’t know. 

“This summer?” my dad asks. I glance up and see his narrow eyes switching from Brendon to me. I sensed this was going to happen. 

“No.” I try. “I would have to miss some school. Not that much, though. Plus, I get good enough grades I can figure it out on the road by myself. I’ll do fine.” 

“I guess…you’ll just have to wait for a summer tour.” my dad says nonchalantly. 

I feel my insides curl. Of course. I wanted him to just agree with me, for once. I stare down at my food, suddenly despising it. I tighten my jaw and try to come up with something to say. I would do anything for everything, so there’s nothing in my head that says I won’t convince my dad. Just not here. 

“When I skipped school to tour,” Brendon starts. I don’t think he understands that the real persuasion starts when I’m home. “I had tutors and stuff. It was really easy.” 

He flashes one of those ‘I’m so right’ smiles and I cringe. That kind of shit doesn’t work with my dad. I direct my eyes back to my food. I don’t want this here. 

“That could work.” my mom says. I don’t move my eyes, just wait. I love my mom, but there is a reason her marriage isn’t exactly stable. 

“Education should be your forefront.” my dad now informs me. “Then you can do your band after.” 

“George, let him do it.” my mom argues on my behalf. “It’s his life.” My words spewing out of someone else's mouth.

“This isn’t open for debate.” my dad declares. 

“This is what Ryan wants!” I have never told her, but she must know. Probably heard me talking to someone from the band. 

“He’s too young to know what he wants!” 

I notice how everyone else is silent. Everyone isn’t used to this, the way my parents just disagree with each other. I bite my lip. They won’t continue. They shouldn’t. I quickly stand up, snagging the tablecloth slightly. Something spills, but I’m long gone before I can register it. I find my way outside and breathe in the fall winds that seize my skin. I breathe in and sit down on the porch. 

I can admit that this is incredibly dramatic. They were just being hostile in front of me. I knew it was happening behind my back, but I didn’t want to endure it. Especially not in front of my family and Brendon. I lean my head against the wood that borders the porch and close my eyes. I start humming my favorite song. Hopefully this family event will be over with soon. 

“Walk?” I hear a voice call out. 

I open my eyes slowly and see Lilly standing at the door. Her face shows no emotion. I pull myself off the ground and don’t bother giving her a trying smile. She doesn’t care. I’m glad at least someone doesn’t. 

We set out on our jaunt. Lines of houses run perpendicular on either side of the road. They’re all identical. I have a kick in my step that practically screams I am in a bad mood. Lilly doesn’t talk for a while. She mainly just looks at me casually and then back to the grass that lines each house. I try to act like I don’t mind her stares, but I do. 

“I’m going.” I finally say. “I don’t care what they say.” 

“I know.” She always knows. 

My dad thinks he is doing so much good. You taught him guitar, now take away his musician dreams. I fight him out of my thoughts. My mom will help me out. Even if it means that they will despise each other by the end, I need this. I need this like I need to breathe. It’s cliché, but true. It’s a necessity for the life I have been craving since I was young. It’s finally handed to me on a golden platter and someone thinks they can come along and take it from me. I’ll fight for this. 

“Brendon and you friends then?” she asks. 

I look at her nervously, like she just might know. I can tell she doesn’t. We can be friends. “Yeah.” I nod. 

“That must be really cool for you.” she says. “You know, you’re such a big fan and everything. And now...a tour.” 

“Basically.” That sums it up. “I’m not usually this lucky.” 

“Luck? You have luck, Ryan.” Lilly confirms. 

“Recently.” 

I hear a police car in the distance and I don’t think much of it. Could be anything. Crash. Speed limit. Murder. I let Lilly lead us. I don’t know this neighborhood. She seems comfortable rounding the corner. I bet she knows everything about these streets. Knowing things is nice in a confusing world. 

“Are you okay?” she asks me. “Since you got here, you’re just acting weird.” 

Have I? I am just acting how I usually do. I might be acting differently now because of my parents, but beforehand I was me. I’m always me. I just change my thoughts and subsequently change myself. I’m an actor in disguise. 

“Just weird to actually be at a family event.” I sigh. 

She hums, in an almost agreement. I don’t think she fully believes me. We walk on for another few minutes, until she sighs. “Okay, will you tell me now?

“Really, there is nothing.” I keep lying. 

“You know I wouldn’t judge.” she furthers. I know she would. “You never talk unless you’re drunk.” 

“Not true!” I argue, though part of it is true. I don’t talk about my feelings to anyone. “Besides, you wouldn’t understand.” I realize how bad the line is right after it is out of my mouth. Now she knows there is something. 

“Ryan!” she wines. “Is it a girl? Did someone break your heart, Ry?” she asks, frantically. 

“No...kind of the opposite.” I know I shouldn't, but the words still come out. I duck my head and stare at the dark road. I feel sick. 

“What do you mean?” she says confused. I can’t spell it for her. I can’t even spell it out for myself. 

“It’s nothing.” I mumble. I need to stop myself. I know if I told someone, I would have a cleaner perspective on this. I just can’t. She isn’t the person

I should tell. I force my mind to shut off, but I can’t manage the same for my mouth. “It’s just, Brendon and I…” My stomach curls and I realize how wrong it is. I shouldn't be doing that with Brendon. Even if it was a one time thing. I shouldn't. “We kissed, Lilly.” 

“Ar-Are you serious?” she stutters. I nod, cowardly. I don’t bother trying to make eye contact. I would lose it in seconds. I just hate myself. 

“I’m just so confused.” I confess, feeling worthless. 

Lilly stops walking abruptly and turns to face me. There appears to be no judgment on her face. I expected worse. 

“Ryan, hey, I don’t care.” She pulls me in for a hug and I have never been much of a hugger, but I hold on for a few extra moments, needing it.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8  
I tap my fingers nervously on my knee and try to not act so nervous. Alex is next to me, tapping along to the same beat. We are waiting on the rest of the band to get here. We weren’t technically due here for another fifteen minutes, but Alex and I felt the need to come early. It took us a good twenty minutes just to find the small building with office spaces available for rent. Just a few days ago Brendon, his manger, and a few others came to our practice space and evaluated our music. They said we were good, but they could be lying. 

I guess we wouldn’t be here if they didn’t want us. We’re here to talk to some business type people about the tour. We aren’t really sure what to expect. Brendon wasn’t sure what we would exactly talk about. I really hate having to walk in completely blind. 

I had managed to convince my dad that I needed this. There was a lot of yelling. I did it, though. I wasn’t sure if it was a done deal, but I had to get his acceptance. If I didn’t, it would have been weird turning down Brendon. Turning down my dreams. 

Five minutes pass by quickly and Dallon and Spencer walk in. They look nervous and are probably mirroring Alex and me. They sit in the two other wooden chairs next to us.

“You think they liked us?” Spencer asks, breaking the silence. 

“They acted like they did.” I shrug. 

We’re talking quietly, as if worried that someone might hear us and laugh at our naivety. I keep my eyes locked on the door where we are supposed to enter soon instead of making eye contact while we speak. 

“They might have to do that, though.” Dallon, the always optimistic person he is, says. 

We don’t talk after that. In another five minutes, someone comes out of the door and tells us to come inside. 

The office is decorated sparsely. There is a photograph of a wolf framed on the beige painted wall. There are only two seats by the desk so we awkwardly try to find out who will sit but then someone brings in two more. Good start.   
I  
recognize the man sitting behind the desk in a large leather chair. He was the same man who watched us apprehensively play our music. He is now looking slightly amused at our seating arrangement fiasco. We all manage to sit and look up at him like he is our last hope. He may just be, too. We all smile and he returns it, nodding a hello. 

“When Brendon first told me he wanted to take a band that hadn’t even been signed...I was a little nervous.” he begins. Part of my stomach falls. “Thankfully, when we went to watch you guys perform, you seemed very professional and your music is good.” 

More smiles. “Thank you.” we all mumble, a little bit stupefied. 

“You guys will be able to go on tour as long as you can record the songs you have and make an EP. When we came to watch you, one of us was a rep for Hills Records and they like your stuff. If you record the album, then we can put it on merch tables and sell it.” 

We all nod. We know that Hills Records is the same label that Established Heroes is on. They have been since the beginning. I, and most likely the guys, realize that he is offering us a record deal. We finally made it. Finally. 

“Furthermore, your band still needs a name. I expect that shouldn’t be that hard to do. You’ll get six days in the studio very soon. You all seemed to know the songs so it shouldn't be that hard to record.”

“No, it won’t.” Alex assures. He’s right. 

“Well, glad to hear it.” he smiles, a sliver of sincerity in it. 

We talk about the album, the tour, our seemingly bright future. I find myself with a dumb smile plastered on my face. Today is Saturday. We start recording on Tuesday this week. Then in less than two weeks we will go on tour. It sounds perfect. Only two more weeks here.   
I can hold on that long. 

Painting appears to not be my forte. I’m over at Brendon’s, not long after getting out of the meeting. When he called me saying Dan was gone but said he had to finish painting, I tried to act surprised. I remember eavesdropping on him and Dan at the store and how they were picking out paint. Now, I was trying to use the paintbrush correctly, filling in the gaps that might have been missed. Brendon just keeps laughing at my attempts. 

“You shouldn’t be laughing. This is your apartment.” I point out. 

Apparently the guy who owns the complex is a big fan of Established Heroes, so Brendon is like royalty to the guy. When Dan asked about painting the walls, he sprang on the opportunity to have Brendon Urie paint his walls. 

“At least I can blame it on you.” he shrugs, going back to painting. He seems really good at it. Damn, what is Brendon not good at? 

“So, why did Dan make you paint again?” I ask. 

“Something about how I should make the place look nice if I ever need to have anyone over.” 

“Yeah, this place is pretty shitty.” I tease, because it is a nice apartment. 

I watch Brendon’s face light up and he laughs. It’s pleasant having a friend you can do that to. You can say something that appears rude, but you both know you’re joking and he won’t kick your ass afterwards. It’s something I haven’t had for a while. 

The iHome in the corner is blasting my iPod, but not too loud because the neighbors might complain. Can’t get out of those things. I hum along as I paint. For a while now we have been making small talk. I don’t mind spending my Saturday painting. 

“Happy Dan is finally gone?” I ask, for conversational purposes. 

“God, yes!” he smiles, brightly. “He’s just such a…” he can’t seem to find a word to describe his own brother. “A prick.” 

“Sweet of you to say that, Brendon.” 

“You should just hear what he preaches to me.” he rolls his eyes. I have, though. I know. “He wants me to quit the band, and he’s pissed that I refuse to.” 

“Your band is so popular, though.” I say. “You can’t just give it up.” 

He smiles at me. “Sometimes I forget you’re like a major fan.” 

“I barley said anything!” 

“I saw the look.” he nods. “I have done enough meet-and-greets to know that look. You’re completely in love with me.” 

“The band!” I laugh. 

Just as I say it, an Established Heroes song comes on. I smirk and start singing along loudly. I walk closer to Brendon, who looks annoyed. 

“You’re going to hate this song soon.” he explains. 

“Why?” 

“We play this every tour.” 

The song is old, from their first album. Every show I have ever been to they have played it. It’s one of my favorites, though. I have no guilt as I yell along louder. I make sure to even do the guitar riffs while Brendon’s voice isn’t in the track. I am obviously close to Brendon, because here I am singing around him. I refuse to sing around anyone else. 

“Why don’t you sing in the band?” he asks, like he is reading my thoughts. 

“I’m not very good at singing.” I say quietly, looking down at my hands. “Plus, Alex is really good and he really loves the band.” 

“I like your voice, Ryan.” Brendon says. I look up, just to see if he’s holding in a laugh. He doesn’t look like he is, though. I look back down, my face getting hot. 

“Thanks.” I mumble. 

“You know what Andy told me?” he asks, looking excited. I shake my head, since I’m not Brendon’s ears. “I guess he wants me to be featured on one of the songs on your album.” 

I look up at him, a giant smile on my face. “Really!?” I almost shout, because this is awesome for me. 

“Yeah,” he nods. “Wants me to sing with you guys on stage and stuff.” 

I smile more. I would share the stage with him. It’s one of those moments you can’t really believe. I have only ever wanted to meet Brendon, not this. Not that I wouldn’t want all of this, it’s just I would have never dreamed it. 

“That’s really awesome.” I say, keeping down my fan mode. “Would we make a new song or just write you into one?” 

“I think we only have time to use an old song.” he tells me. “I think we should use Mind Set.” 

Mind Set is one of our songs that I don’t really like. I’m surprised he even remembers the songs, let alone the song titles that we mumbled out before playing. We wanted a more radio-type song and that was the product. I don’t blame Brendon for choosing it, either. It’s probably one of those songs that the public will eat up. Hell, even when we were writing it, I kept getting the chorus stuck in my head.

“So you’ll spend some time in the studio with us?” I ask. 

“Yep.” 

The pounding of the rain has just started back up again. The TV signal has been weary for an hour already. Brendon and I are under the covers on his bed. Our eyelids are barely managing to stay open. We’re leaning against the wall it is pushed up against. The TV keeps going in and out, so parts of Titanic aren’t coming in. 

“Ryan.” Brendon looks over at me, looking dead serious. “What if...what if we don’t find out what happens to Jack and Rose.” 

“Jack dies.” I say, causally. 

I watch his face fall and realize he was serious about finishing the movie. “You jerk!” he yells out, pushing me almost off the bed. “I wanted to see what was gonna happen!” 

I try to keep an unimpressed face, but soon falter and burst out in laughter. “Sorry.” I shrug. 

“Okay,” Brendon still looks kind of angry. “Tell me how he dies.” 

“Really, Brendon?” he nods his head quickly. “They fall asleep because it’s too cold and Jack falls into the ocean.” 

“What a dick move on Rose’s part.” Brendon smirks. 

Suddenly, the lights in Brendon’s room flicker, then go off in all. I tense up and get just a little scared until I realize the storm must have just turned it off. I reach over to the nightstand and grab my phone. The light illuminates just enough of Brendon to see he’s doing the same. 

“Do you have any candles?” I ask. 

“Do I look like a woman?” he snaps, sounding alarmed. 

“Sometimes.” I shrug, a wicked smile on my lips that he can probably not even see. 

“We might as well just go to sleep.” 

I don’t argue, mainly because I was just having troubles staying awake. I lie down and pull the covers up to my chin, resting my hand under the pillow. Brendon tugs at the comforter. 

“You hogged it last time, too.” he whines. 

“No I didn’t!” I deny, keeping a firm grasp on it. 

I hear him sigh and give up. I let go of the blanket and close my eyes. There is a loud crash of lightning and the rain goes down even more. A bright flash illuminates the room. I like thunderstorms. Most people don’t like them or are even deathly afraid of them. I, on the other hand, get excited when one rolls in. I especially like to write. It puts my head in a frenzy of ideas.

“I’m nervous.” I whisper without thinking. 

“Please don’t tell me you’re one of those people who’re scared of thunder storms.” he groans. 

“No, no.” I laugh. “It’s just the whole album and the tour.” 

I hear rustling and open my eyes to see Brendon now facing my way. His face is only inches away. 

“Have I ever told you about how I got signed?” he asks. 

“Well, no.” I say. “But, I’ve seen the interviews.” 

“We lie.” he smiles. “The truth is that Jack was totally having an affair with one of the vice presidents. Yeah, sure she was pissed when Jack stopped seeing her after we were signed but we got it.” 

“Oh my gosh.” I say, sounding like a girl. I can’t help it, I have always thought they were telling the truth when they said that someone happened to pull out their CD from the mountainous stacks. “You cheated.” 

“No, we simply used her to our advantage. I don’t think Jack minded the affair, either.” he laughs. “You kind of cheated, too.” 

“I guess.” I mumble. We did, though. I just happened to be best friends with someone big like Brendon. It was more luck than cheating. 

“Don’t worry about the album. The hardest part is the nerves. You just go crazy wondering if it’s good enough, or if you should try this verse, or this chord progression. It all works out, though.” he soothes. “And the tour, well, I guess that is a little more nerve racking. I bet you perform well. You just look like you do. It’s all fun and games after the first show.” 

I smile. “I’ve seen the concert documentary.” I claim. “I know you guys don’t take it too seriously.” 

I recall the crazy footage of everyone in the band for one of their front-lining tours. Everyone is screaming and drinking and having a good time. It seemed like something I wouldn’t mind every night, even though I am a quiet person.

“I think we all act a little different when the cameras turn on.” 

“Oh.” I don’t know how to reply. I close my eyes and almost drift to sleep until I hear Brendon talk. 

“This might just be pillow talk, but I really like your face.” 

I open my eyes, a hint of a smile forming on my lips. “My face?” I repeat. 

Brendon looks drowsy but still nods, brushing his face against the pillow. More thunder rumbles the house. “Yeah.” 

“Isn’t pillow talk, like, right after sex talk?” I laugh nervously. 

“Shut up, asshole!” he merely smiles. “It doesn’t always have to be.” 

“Mhm.” I say. 

I watch him close his eyes and I feel wide awake. Why did he tell me that? Maybe he was just trying to calm my nerves. It doesn’t mean anything. I like Brendon’s face, doesn’t mean I like his face. I slowly close my eyes and try to sleep. The thunder and lightning keep making me jump. 

I wake up partly through the night to feel an abnormal amount of heat pushed up against me. I slowly draw my eyes open and realize that Brendon has burrowed his face into my upper stomach. His arms aren’t wrapped around me this time, but rather pushed up to his and my stomach. I feel my eyes close and I drift back to sleep, this time ignoring my small urges to move. He feels good, which is something I don’t think I want to realize just yet. I’ll figure it out in the morning.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9  
I feel my fingers hit the sparkling keys at just the right moments. I add my left hand and feel a song coming together. I keep a changing tempo with my foot and close my eyes, liking the patterns I made up. It’s our third day at the studio and since it’s Thursday, I should be in a math class right now. Instead I am here, doing the equivalent of what I would be doing there: nothing. I guess I am making up a song, but we wouldn’t use it. 

The first day of studio time was spent on preproduction and it was draining and not really fun. I didn’t expect to have a blast while we were here, I just didn’t expect it to be this boring. Most of yesterday was spent on tracking drums. Since I obviously wasn’t needed for that I kept to myself in the corner, mindlessly strumming on a guitar or on the piano I am currently on. Right now they are working on bass. I can barley offer much help. I know little about that instrument. 

I have no words to the song I’m writing, but I keep writing down the piano part on the empty sheet music that appears to be everywhere. I watch as Dallon tries out tricky patterns and the guy who is helping us record takes it from him and shows him the proper way. No one seems to notice me playing. If they did, I think they would have yelled at me by now. I keep playing the same pattern, or changing just little chunks of it. 

“Ryan, come over here and play the guitar part with the bass and see if it sounds right.” Alex beckons for me. 

I abandon my sheet music on the stand and walk over to them in the swivel chairs that are everywhere. I pick out one of the guitars and sit down next to Dallon. I set my fingers on the designated frets and prepare to play. I already know what song it is, because they have been working on this for a while. Dallon starts and I follow a few beats afterwards right on cue. We play for a little, then get stopped. Alex, the unofficial ring leader, writes things down. 

While playing for maybe the sixth time, I hear something familiar. When I look over I notice Brendon sitting down at the piano. He’s reading my music that is poorly done. He nods his head and checks his fingers, then the music. I realize it sounds better when he plays it. I stop playing my guitar. 

“When did you get here?” I ask, making everyone stop and look around. It doesn’t take a while for them to see who I’m talking about. 

“I have a free period this hour, so I thought I would come talk about the song.” he shrugs, stopping my music he’s playing. “I don’t remember this one.” 

“I was just messing around.” I say. 

“Wait, what song were you talking about at first?” Alex asks, not taking interest in my music he’s heard on repeat for three days. 

“Oh!” Brendon stands up. “Andy, my manger, asked me if I could do a song with you guys. I could just be featured in one the songs you have written already. It would, you know, boost sales and I could go on stage during tour.” He sounds nervous, like he is barging into a sacred recording ritual. In reality, we feel the same way with the tour. But who admits things nowadays? 

“That’s great!” Alex says in that professional voice he uses a lot more lately. I always smile when he does it, because I am used to him being his cocky self. “What song were you thinking?” 

“Whichever one you guys wanna give up.” he says quietly. I almost laugh. Give up? With Brendon on the track it will get popular. Maybe he means give up to the public? 

“Oh, well, we don’t really care.” Alex speaks on everyone’s behalf. 

“He wants Mind Set.” I point out, remembering what Brendon told me last Saturday. 

“You do?” Alex says excitedly. He doesn’t wait for Brendon to nod or anything. “Yeah, that would be cool. We could put you in right before the bridge. Or maybe you could just do the bridge. You could sing with me in a chorus? Is that weird?” he babbles. 

Brendon turns my way and smiles, like we have some weird friendship inside joke. I smile back because that’s what I know to do. 

“Well, I don’t care what you guys do. I’m just happy to be in the track.” the newly formal Brendon speaks. “I just wanted to let you know before I come in on...Monday? I think I’m coming then. You’ll probably be almost done at that point, right?” 

Everyone just nods. Monday is our last day. We better be done by then. Crazy to think the tour will begin that Saturday. It doesn’t seem that close. The rest of this week and next week will probably go by quickly, though. I’ll say goodbye to the shit that is this town and come back to it later. That’s how everything works for me.

“One more time, then we’ll record, Dallon.” our studio manager says. 

Dallon and I start playing and it goes flawlessly. It also sounds exactly like how we started. I don’t think I was really needed for this long, but that’s why I’m here. I feel better doing this than keeping to myself in the corner. I feel a little better having Brendon coming to see us while I am doing something. 

I move out of everyone’s way before Dallon starts recording. My time of importance has died. I go back to the piano, where Brendon is sitting. His hands aren’t on the keys, rather studying the sheet music. 

“You forget to put in contacts this morning?” I joke, because he’s squinting at the paper. 

“No, just, you wrote this?” he asks. 

I shift uncomfortably. Does he think I stole it? I do sometimes think something is mine but realize it is exactly like another song. I don’t think this song is like any other I know. Maybe I subconsciously stole someone else’s song. 

“Yeah. I just started working on it on Tuesday. You know, there’s not much to do when you’re not needed.” I say. But he might not know. He is the lead singer, they do more I think. All I really have to compare is Alex, but he has always been the leader of the band. 

“I know, I know.” he ruins any worries I had. “It’s really good. Does it have lyrics?” 

I shake my head almost regretfully. I wish I had lyrics. Lately I have no words to speak. They are just meaningless. No one cares about those. I keep thinking something will just pop up if I keep playing it. All that happens is me changing small things about the song. I guess it was meant to be just a piano piece. 

“Not really sure if it’s meant for words.” I suggest my thoughts. 

“Maybe.” he shrugs. “So, how is the studio life?” 

“You see it.” I open my arms, showing off the extravagant times we appear to be having. It’s not that I am making fun of it. I am so grateful for what’s happened. It’s just that recording has lost its shimmering appearances after spending so much time here. 

“Exciting, I see.” he nods. 

“Did you talk to the guys about the tour yet?” I mention his band mates, since he doesn’t talk about them much. I always assumed they were connected by the hip even after the tours. 

“Sort of. I talked to them over text.” he explains. “They aren’t exactly happy to be touring with no one they know, but they will get over it. You guys seem like nice company.” he smiles widely. 

“You probably shouldn’t have told me that.” I look down at my hands. Great, they wanted old tour friends, but get a bunch of newbies. 

“Why?” Brendon asks. 

“You’re talking to the boy with the worst self-esteem.” I pull on a smile, but I’m not exactly lying. 

“Sure.” He sounds doubtful, like I am telling him bullshit. He says it like there is no way I would ever be worried about every move I make. Everything I say. Everything I wear. Everything I think. If he does, he’s wrong. I don’t tell him. We’re not close enough for me to start vomiting out my feelings to him. I don’t even think I have ever had someone who I would tell everything to. 

Friday mornings are usually hell. You just spend the entire day hating your life until last hour ends. I usually spend the day only half-caring about everything that goes on. My first hour English class is begging me to take a nap. It’s one of the slowest classes, especially when you are working on four hours of sleep. I had a ton of homework to catch up on while I missed school at the studio so I spent all night working on that. They were nice enough to let us go to school on Monday and Friday. Yeah, thanks guys. 

“How is the recording?” Pete asks me coldly. 

Ever since I told him he has been a little mean. I think he’s just jealous. He was kicked out of the band, so that would piss me off, too. He did it to himself, though. The fact that I’m hanging out with Gabe most of the time I am here, annoys him. We still make awkward talk. 

“Good, but really tiring.” I reply, not telling him about how I don’t do much. 

“You’re missing a lot of school for it, huh?” he says. I give him a sheepish smile and nod. “Lucky shit.” 

I ignore the comment. “There was a ton of homework just for the three days, I can’t imagine the tour.” It’s not that I’m complaining, I’m just trying to make conversation. That is really the only thing I can think of to say. 

“So!” he exclaims, angrily flicking the hair that has fallen into his eyes. “You get to go on tour with them. Fuck, you get to go on tour!” 

“Yeah.” I mutter, kind of scared of Pete. He seems really upset. 

I turn back to the front of the classroom, praying that the teacher finally start class and save me. I tap my hands apprehensively on the table. 

“Look who’s back!” I hear Gabe yell. I turn and see him and Jon taking their seats next to me. 

“Hey guys.” I mutter. I feel Pete staring. 

“So, how is the rock star?” Gabe asks. I don’t answer right away. “Ah, that bad, huh?” 

“No! It’s just I’m tired.” I smirk. “Too much partying, obviously.” 

Mrs. Kit walks into the room and tells everyone to go to their seats. I feel a wave of relief setting in. I don’t want to talk today. I think I have surpassed the amount of the words I can say while I was at the studio. All meaningless. Nothing good. 

“You still hanging out with that dick?” I hear Pete whisper to me, maybe just a little too loud. Gabe doesn’t react, though. 

“He’s not a dick, Pete.” I say behind clenched teeth. 

Mrs. Kit doesn’t seem to notice us, and continues to lecture the class on something unimportant. I usually listen to every word, because that is the type of person I am in this class. I don’t want to ignore Pete, though. 

“I swear, you’re blind.” he mutters. “And deaf.” 

“Shut. Up. Pete.” I say angrily, not wanting to draw attention so I keep my voice low. 

Thankfully, Pete stops talking for a while. Mrs. Kit puts us into random pairs for an exercise and thanks to some God who apparently hates me, I get paired with Pete. 

“Okay, you can do the top half and I’ll-” I start, not wanting to waste time. 

“Leave school for more days?” Pete finishes. 

I have this overwhelming urge to scream at him but contain myself. “Funny, but no. I can finish the bottom half.” I explain. 

I quickly look away and get to work on the grammar worksheet. I notice how Pete isn’t even looking at it. His eyes are transfixed on me. I look up to see him still glaring at me. 

“Can you stop that?” he almost yells. Some people look over cursorily at us. I don’t like this kind of attention. I barely like attention, in general. 

“What?” 

“You just ignore things. You never stand up for yourself.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry if I didn’t reach your expectations!” I say, my words dripping in sarcasm. What does he expect from me? I didn’t want to get angry and I wanted to finish this. 

“This is why you’re friends with Gabe again.” he shakes his head with disgust. “I’m really trying to help you.” 

“Sure, just insult my friend then.” I counter. 

“Don’t you see he’s just using you?” 

I look across the room and see Gabe not paying attention to what we are talking about. I turn my attention back to Pete. “Coming from the guy who wants quotes from Brendon!”

“You only gave me one decent one, so it doesn’t really matter.” 

I realize how loud we are when Mrs. Kit gives us a warning look. I drop the conversation with Pete and try to concentrate on the worksheet. I know Pete isn’t working. I know he won’t. I don’t need his answers anyway. 

“You guys should just kick Dallon out.” Pete announces. 

I slump my shoulders and look up to him, wanting him to just shut the hell up. “No, just because you got kicked out and we actually got lucky, doesn’t mean you can come back.” 

“So now you stand up for something.” he slumps into his chair. 

I know what I’m doing. I’m fighting a battle that shouldn’t even be happening. A dying fight that won’t end in anything. I have this excuse that seems to run in my head a lot: I’m a teenager. I can do this kind of stuff. I’m meant to get into dumb fights. I know it’s bullshit and I really shouldn't allow myself to act so terribly. I tell myself I’m different than my generation then do that. 

“I can do what I want.” I say. 

“Well, look at Ryan fucking Ross!” he yells with sarcasm. 

Mrs. Kit and several of the students look our way. I swallow nervously. “Ryan, Pete, how about you finish this in the hallway?” she asks us, still sounding happy. 

I pick up my paper and pencil and trudge into the hallway looking disappointed. I’m really just pissed off at Pete. I sit down on the cold, linoleum flooring and try to finish the damn worksheet. Pete soon walks out of the classroom empty handed. 

“You could at least try the worksheet.” I say unhappily. 

“You could at least shut the fuck up.” Pete says. 

I drag in an upset breath. Really? Now he doesn’t want to talk? “You say you’re trying to help me, but you’re being a dick to me!” I shout, because I just don’t care anymore. I’m tired and I’m tired of him. 

“Says the kid who barely comes to school and sits at the faggot table.” 

“Are you serious?” I dig my nail into the flooring to keep my hands from hitting him. I don’t need to get into a fight with Pete. I have seen him in a fight. Even though he is short, he’s rough. I still stand up, because I don’t want to be the only one sitting. “Don’t be so fucking jealous of me, Pete.” 

“Me? Jealous?” he spits at me. “I’m not jealous. I just think you’re undeserving of everything you get. You complain about how you’re so tired and how much homework you have and you barely take the time to see how lucky you are!” 

I bite my tongue and keep in the slur of curse words I have. “I’m not undeserving, Pete. Okay, I have worked for this.” 

“Worked for it? Right!” he laughs bitterly. 

“You think you know everything about me! I should do this, stop hanging out with this person, I should help you out!” 

“I’m only doing you a favor. You know Gabe is going to fuck you over again.” 

“He’s changed.” I try to stick up for a kid I’m not sure has, in fact, changed. I can only hope. 

“Changed so much? Well, when all his friends beat you up again, I won’t be there to salvage whatever is left of you.” 

“They won’t!” I feel weak just saying it. I know it sounds so small. I can’t help but to hate that memory and Pete for just bringing it up. 

“See.” he shakes his head. “You can’t even back up what you’re saying.” he walks over to me and looks me in the eye. I just swallow and get kind of scared because I really think he is about to kill me. He simply pushes me into the wall and shakes his head again, like I’m an awful person. “Good luck, Ryan.” 

I watch him go down the hallway and probably out of the school. I lean against the wall and fall down to the floor.

Inhale. 

Exhale. 

Distract self with thoughts of better times. 

Life goes on, even if I’m not exactly there to see it go.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10  
After an admitting defeat with Pete, I’m so looking forward to coming home today. But, not really. I used to have a distraction from school, so when I got home I was in a manageable mood, but unfortunately Dan made sure Brendon’s car got fixed so I don’t have to drive him anymore. When I arrive home, throwing my backpack onto the floor, I’m not overly happy to hear my parents beckoning me. 

I slowly walk up the stairs hoping it will show that I’m still pissed off and they really shouldn’t talk to me. No such luck. 

“Ryan, did you finish your homework from the days you missed?” my dad asks, as if that wouldn’t have already affected me. 

“Obviously.” I answer, standing stiffly at the doorway to the kitchen where my parents sit at the table. 

“I don’t need the attitude.” he remarks, snorting to himself. The action itself makes me upset.

“I don’t need you asking pointless questions. I obviously must have done it if I went to school.” I guess he might not know that, but I don’t care. I’m in a bad mood and he really isn’t helping. 

“Ryan!” my mom yells at me. I take the hint, because usually my mom doesn’t intervene in this kind of stuff. 

My dad doesn’t care if I’m still silent. He gets off the chair and walks closer to me. For the second time today, I get the fear I’m about to get hit. I bite my lip slightly, but keep my feet planted to the ground. Can’t give in that quick. 

“You know how generous we are being to you?” he asks. I pretend I know nothing, especially not the obvious, and nod my head with a mock smile on. “Oh! Well, let me remind you. We are allowing you to skip almost four weeks of school to try out being a musician.” he starts, but I can’t take this seriously. He is slowly taking steps closer to me.

“Try out?” I say with this bitter smile on my lips. 

“Yes, try out.” he says, obviously angry at me. “Not to mention we are helping you pay for the recording of the CD and the tour. So, if anything, you should be really thankful for everything we are doing for some silly dream of yours.” 

I clench my jaw. I can’t believe he just referred to this as silly. “Says the man who got me a guitar! What were you expecting?” I guess getting a guitar doesn’t exactly state that you must become a musician, but for these purposes I have to say it. “Oh wait, for me to end up like you? Well, no! I’m done trying to impress you.” It’s weird. To say these things out loud. They are things that have flown through my head for so long and are now in the open. I said them. 

“You were never trying to impress me, Ryan.” he snorts. “And if you were, you did an awful job.” 

I feel my throat clench up. I break the weird eye contact I had with him and stare at the floor. I let the words sink in. I’ve done an awful job. Awful. That’s all I get. I’ve been doing my best. I really did try, all of those years on guitar. And at school. And at life, in general. Apparently, it was all worthless. I have wasted my time. They can say all this bullshit about how 'time is just a concept', but that is my fucking life. For so long I have strived for his acceptance. For what? To be told it is all a waste. I’m awful.

“George, he’s under a lot of pressure right now, you have-” my mom starts, and maybe she understands. Maybe she has noticed all these little insignificant things I do for my dad. I feel dumb all of a sudden, because now I just lost something in myself and my mom. I’m not exactly sure what it is yet, either. 

“This is the life he wanted!” my dad barks at her. My heart dies a little. I don’t really like yelling aimed at me from him, but to see it for my mom, I just die. She doesn’t deserve all this second-hand anger. “He needs to learn to balance.”

“He’s just started, though.” she says, her words sounding angrier every syllable. I just stand and watch. I know for one, my mother doesn’t get pushed around. 

“I don’t care!” my dad yells. “If he was mature enough, he would know how to act.” 

“You’re the one that raised him!” my mom counters quickly, getting to her feet. 

“You didn’t help, apparently.” 

I suddenly feel like I need to stop him. He needs to stop. I can’t, though. I can’t save my mom from him. I can barley save myself from him. This just leads me to be angry. I’m upset at myself and my dad and for some reason my mom. I am just sick of them. I’m sick of whatever cruel relationship they have with each other. 

I feel my lungs come back into use, which is never good. “Can you two stop?!” I scream. I know I sound like a troubled seven year old, but I can’t help it. “Just fucking stop with this! I’m so done watching you two tear each other apart.” I know I shouldn’t curse around them, but I do it either way. When I get angry I curse, it just happens. They don’t seem affected by it, rather surprised at my outburst instead. “Just get a divorce already! I don’t want to be in the middle of this storm.” 

I feel my legs backing up. I’m starting to leave the house, but right before I head down the steps I turn around. I feel a little dramatic as I say it, but I don’t care. “Since I’m a disappointment don’t let me be the one standing in your way of happiness.” 

The last word comes out choked and I start making my way downstairs. I try to put on my shoes, holding back these unnecessary tears that are in my eyes. I’m not a baby. No. 

“You’re not going.” I hear my dad say quietly. “There is no way in hell I’m letting you go on that tour.”   
I don’t say anything back, just tumble out the door, making sure to slam it as hard as I can.   
I don’t think walking to Brendon’s house was completely in my agenda today, but I still manage. I walk up to his door, my thoughts still swarming with what my parents said. The urge to cry is now gone. I’m more just confused now, not as angry and sad as I was before. 

I knock and wait. It’s not long before Brendon comes out, looking happy to see me, then his face changes. “You okay?”   
It takes me a moment to reply, because I don’t know how I feel. “Kind of. Can I come in?” 

Brendon readily lets me inside. I take off my shoes and follow him into the living room. As we walk I suddenly get this weird urge. A weird plan. I can’t stop my mind from thinking about it. It seems like a good trade-up from my parents words that are still in my head. With every step I feel my brain become more and more fuzzy. My idea sounds better and better. 

Once we reach his living room, the TV is the only noise. Some crappy reality show is on. I move my eyes away from it and back to Brendon. He looks confused. Poor thing. But I am, too. I try to tell myself what I’m about to do is a bad idea, but I’ve never been good at that if I desperately want something. 

I take quick steps and try to reenact the night of the party I went to with Brendon. I push him against the wall, my anger probably doing it a little too hard. I stare at his eyes, trying to look for some sign of refusal. He seems content. Maybe even a little more confused. I drop my gaze to his mouth, and I self-consciously bite my lip. I realize I probably look like I’m begging. But then again, maybe I am. I take one last glance at him, then dive into his lips while closing my eyes. 

They are just as good as the last time. My memory of that night is a little fuzzy due to the alcohol, but I don’t remember it being this good. Brendon just goes with it, and doesn't seem to mind my attack. This time I move my left hand to his hip and my right to his hair. I kiss him with need, enjoying the way he seems to like this. 

Brendon is quick to move his hands to my waist. He swipes at my bottom lip and I quickly let his tongue in. I push any unwanted thoughts about my sexuality away from my head because this feels too good to not be right. A hot sensation burns through me when our tongues touch. I think Brendon feels it too, because he hitches up his hands under my shirt and digs his nails into my skin. 

We go out for air and I just stare at him as we catch our breath. Any sign of confusion has been wiped from his face. Good. If he doesn’t have any, why should I? I go back in, making sure our tongues are pressed to each other right away. I pull a little at his hair that feels nice to my finger tips. I feel Brendon tighten his grip again and I push him more into the wall. When he hits, he lets out this strangled moan into our mouths and I quickly pull back. I fall out of my trance. 

“What the fuck am I doing?” I whisper to myself. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

“Whoa, Ryan.” Brendon seems to come back to reality just then. He still looks worked up and there is an obvious bulge in his tight jeans. He walks over to me, but doesn't get too close. 

“I’m so confused.” I choke out. “Why do I like that so much? Fuck, I’m not gay.” I try to tell it to myself, but even as I say it, it doesn’t sound true. It sounds weary and unsure. 

“Just because you like that, doesn’t mean you’re gay.” Brendon tells me. 

“Really? Because last time I checked, enjoying making out with a boy is pretty gay.” It sounds so strange to put my words into the air, again. I did enjoy it. A lot. It’s nice to put it out in the open and not pent up in my thoughts. 

Brendon looks like he is kind of happy at my confession. “You could just be bi?” he suggests. 

This could be a sane solution. I could like both genders. It just doesn’t seem to add up in my head. I can’t do both. It’s one or the other for me. The more I think of it, the more it doesn’t seem like a solution. Fuck, even when I jack off recently I can’t help but to think of Brendon and me. It’s something I don’t want to come to terms with. 

“I don’t know.” I whisper, feeling pathetic. 

Here I am unannounced, at Brendon’s house. I have just attacked him and then freaked out over my sexuality. I have to be going crazy. I walk over to his couch, sighing loudly, but not meaning to. I sit down and drop my head against the cushion, staring at the ceiling. 

“Can I spend the night here?” I ask. “I don’t want to see my parents.” He might be a little disappointed to know that my parents are the reason I want to stay, but I don’t care. 

“Of course, Ry.” I hear him pat over the couch and sit down next to me. Our thighs are touching, but I know he isn’t expecting anything from me. We can do things like make out but we are still friends. And if I am having issues, he’d help me out. It’s really comforting knowing that I have a friend like that. I’m more than thankful. “Do you wanna watch a movie?” 

I nod quickly, and watch as Brendon leaves for the DVD rack. I miss the heat on my leg. My head reels instantly back to my parents. “My dad said I can’t go on the tour anymore.” I admit. 

Brendon doesn’t reply for a few beats. “It doesn’t matter.” he shrugs. “You are bound in a contract, remember? You’re fine.”   
I feel a soothing in myself, as I realize that he is completely right. Thank God I have Brendon to show some kind of common sense. “Right.” I nod, sighing again.

Brendon puts in a DVD without even consulting me, unwrapping the evidently recently purchased item. He then wanders off into his bedroom. The pre-movie advertisements show on the screen while he is gone. I stare blankly at it. When he comes back, a bundle of blankets is in his hands. 

“I could’ve helped.” I mumble, grabbing some of them and plopping them on my lap. 

“It’s fine.” he drops the remaining blankets on the couch and goes into the kitchen. I get comfortable, dousing myself in soft fabrics that smell like Brendon. 

“You like cookies and cream, right?” Brendon asks, holding up a tub of ice cream. 

I smile widely, in spite of my mood and nod my head vigorously. He returns the smile and soon comes back with two mountainous bowls full of ice cream. I take one of them and watch as Brendon sneaks under the mess of blankets, just his hands and face sticking out. I lean my body against his, allowing myself to have this. 

The DVD menu pops up and I let out a weak laugh. “Really, Bren?” the nickname sounds nice on my broken tongue. 

“We never got to finish it.” he laughs back, his strong and happy. 

I drop my head on his shoulder and eat a spoonful of ice cream in a funny fashion. The opening credits of Titanic start and I feel some of my issues wipe away. I allow myself to fall into the movie, because it’s better than falling into my thoughts. 

I’m asleep on the couch of the recording studio when I feel someone practically sit on my stomach. I splutter awake and try to move whoever it is off me. They do. 

“You really shouldn’t be wasting your time here.” Brendon remarks. 

I sit up on the couch and rub my eyes. I should have guessed it was him, it is Monday. “Did you start recording yet?” 

He draws up on his eyebrows with a smile on his face. “I’m done already.” 

“I missed it?” I blink a few times. “How long was I asleep?” 

“Not sure, you just looked really tired so we agreed to let you sleep.” 

“And wake me up after you’re done.” I say grumpily. I lean against the couch, feeling just as tired as when I accidently fell asleep. “Can you guys play the whole song?” I shout. 

Soon enough, Mind Set is blasting through the speaker. It sounds like it usually does, minus a weird synthesizer that must have been added in last minute. Alex’s voice compliments the song and then Brendon comes in and sings part of the chorus with him. It sounds like something you would hear on the radio. We just might get there, too. 

“They’re going to release it as soon as they can.” Brendon informs me. “After the CD, though.” 

I just nod. Hopefully I wasn’t actually needed for the song. We finished recording all the guitar parts a while ago. If they did need anything they could have asked anyone here, considering almost all of us know how to play. I feel guilty for not sort of being here. I haven’t had much sleep. My life has been: homework, album, homework, album. 

“Did you guys come up with a name for the band yet?” Brendon asks. 

“No one told you?” I assumed someone would let him know. We named it about a week ago, when they needed it for tour advertisements. “July Poems.” 

“I like it.” is all he says about it. 

It was my idea. We spent two hours going back and forth on names. We were all getting tired and when I brought up the name, no one complained. It’s probably not the manliest band name, but we aren’t the manliest people. It was really more of a loose thread that was in my head, rather than a meaningful name.

“You recording this today?” Brendon asks. I turn my head, scrunched eyebrows, to find him holding up my sheet music with newly added words. 

I feel my face grow red as I snatch it from him. “No.” I say sternly. I fold the paper a few times then deposit it in my pocket. “You should really stop reading through my things.” 

“You left it out in the open.” he defends himself. 

“I was asleep!” I shout. 

“So.” he mumbles. “It’s really good, I like the lyrics. You should record it. I bet it sounds nice with your voice.” 

I can tell my face is going red again. There was no way I would record the song, let alone not have Alex sing it. I wasn’t meant to sing on albums, unless I was doing back-ups or something. 

Spencer and Alex come up to us and sit on the swivel chairs next to the couch. “What’s up?” Spencer asks. 

“Nothing.” I’m quick to answer, hoping Brendon will get that I don’t want to talk about the song.   
Brendon’s never been good at hints. “Make Ryan record the song.” he says. “You guys still have time.” 

“You showed them?” I say incredulously. 

“Hey, it was good, Ryan.” Alex says calmly. He looks a little scared about the way I’m talking to Brendon. I would smile if it wasn’t for the fact that I am mortified of them finding my song. “I didn’t know you wrote lyrics.” 

I had added the lyrics on Saturday morning, after running late to the studio. I was still in a weird mood thanks to Pete, my parents, and Brendon. There’s a lot of truth splayed out in those lyrics, but they’re hiding behind large words and interesting phrasing. I just have this feeling they can all tell. They know everything now, right? Brendon has to. I bet he can decode lyrics like it’s another language. 

“I think you should record, I guess.” Spencer says. “It wouldn’t hurt.” 

“When Brendon played it, it sounded nice.” Alex tells me. 

I swallow nervously. Great, Brendon played it. Now when I do, it will just sound awful. A person can’t just do something after him and expect it to sound okay. “I don’t think so, guys.” 

“Come on, Ry.” Brendon says with these big eyes. I have to look away. It’s like he knows that I will if he does that. 

“No.” 

There’s a few beats of silence until a finger jabs into my side. “Ryan.” Brendon does it again. “C’mon, Ryan. Record the song.” He continues to poke me. 

“If you stop, I will.” I give in. He gives me a warm smile and I barley return it as I get out the crumpled paper in my pocket.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11  
I drag my fingers over the kitchenette table, smiling widely. My dad might think this is silly, but I couldn’t be happier. Here I am on my very own tour bus, prepping for our first show on the tour with Established Heroes. Around my neck hangs a tour pass. Kaleidoscope Dreams Tour is written all over it, a name Brendon made up. It could be the fact that I’m participating in this tour, but it’s one of my favorite names they have ever had. 

I keep smiling to myself, probably looking really strange. I can’t help it, though. All the other guys are still not here. I came early with Brendon. Tonight is our first official show of the tour, but we aren’t going anywhere. Since we’re in California, there are stages everywhere. We choose one maybe ten minutes from my house. It still feels good. I get to perform tonight. 

Our album came out yesterday. There really was no recognition. Brendon sent out the link to his fans and some people bought it. It’s probably just because we are touring with them. I don’t mind. I’ll take the second-hand fame. 

“You seem happy.” 

I twist around to see Brendon at the doorway. He seems really good at talking to me at unexpected times. “I should be.” 

“You will learn to hate this thing after the first 2000 miles.” Brendon says. 

“You don’t like touring?” I ask. I do remember him saying he did in several interviews, but people lie. 

“Love hate relationship.” he shrugs. I watch him peer through the hallway with the bunks. “Take the one nearest to the back lounge. Less noise, usually.” 

I push past him and deposit my hoodie onto the farthest bunk, taking Brendon’s advice. “You ready for tonight?” I ask, even though I know he is. This is just another tour out of a million or so. 

“I don’t know,” he smiles wickedly. “I think the fans should be prepared. Since I’ve been at school, I haven’t been singing as much. But I now have extensive knowledge on how Hitler took over.” 

“I’m sure they would love to hear that instead of a few songs.” I joke. 

He hums in agreement. “We’re going shopping soon. We’ll get some food and other stuff before the show. I think we have a half an hour after the show before we have to leave. Best to get everything ready.” 

I’m not sure if it’s because we have our first show tonight or something else, but our conversation sounds rigid. It sounds like we have only talked a few times. It bothers me. 

“I thought I was early.” I hear at the doorway. 

Brendon and I look over and see Spencer. He’s smiling widely and has a backpack slung on him. I return the smile. I watch him take in the place. Our new home for a few weeks. His eyes gloss over the couch to the kitchenette to the bunks. 

“I’m excited.” he finally says, dropping his backpack on one of the beds that doesn't have my hoodie on it. 

Next on the bus are Dallon and Alex. Dallon is really serene and just looks at everything pleasantly. Alex, on the other hand, has finally dropped that whole professional guy act around Brendon and starts jumping around. 

“This is going to be fucking rad.” Alex laughs. 

“I think you guys should come meet my band.” Brendon declares. 

We walk out of the bus and towards a slightly larger one. It does seem weird that we have never actually met seventy-five percent of the band we are touring with. Brendon doesn’t bother knocking on the bus door, just pushes it open. He walks in, turns around, then opens his mouth. 

“You guys wait out here, it’s too small for all of us.” 

We all wait awkwardly outside until Brendon comes back outside with his band on his tail. They don’t seem to mind being pulled out of the bus. It’s an interesting variety of guys that greet us. 

“July Poems.” Brendon sweeps his arms our way, making himself look like a model for a game show. 

“Hi, I’m Ryan.” I say, trying to sound like I’m someone that these guys would want to hang out with. 

I’ve perfected the art of trying to fit in. I’ll always be that kid who wants everyone to like him but doesn’t exactly know how. I can change my personality, change my favorite things, change everything to be with a certain crowd of people. This shouldn’t be hard. 

I get a few smiles in return. “I’m Jack.” says the man I obviously already know is Jack Barakat. I don’t tell him this, though. Jack is lead guitar. He’s got almost black hair that swoops into his eyes and spikes up in certain places. He has the same dressing style as Alex and me: skinny jeans and hoodies. He greets everyone from my band.

Patrick, the drummer, is next to make the rounds. Patrick Stump is older than everyone else in the band at twenty-one. He has blond-ish hair that falls into his face easily and isn’t the tallest person around. It’s a weird array of guys that make up Established Heroes. I guess that happens when you all meet at a musical festival. 

Josh Franceschi is no exception to that. He is from the UK and when he opens his mouth you can tell. He has a strong English accent skirting through his words. His brown hair is all over the place and he’s always smiling. He rounds out the band as the bass player.  
In all, I recognized them from my countless concert excursions and late-night interviewer binges. It’s weird to meet them in person. I contain my inner fanboy and fall into conversation with Jack and Alex. We’re talking about different varieties of guitars when a man walks up to us. In comparison to me, he looks like a miniature giant. 

“If you’re planning on going shopping, you guys better leave now before sound check.” he says firmly. 

Everyone nods and walks off to their cars. I came here with Brendon, so I turn around to where he is waiting for me. We walk to his car, silence falling over us. 

“So, who was that?” I ask. 

“Zach.” he nods. “He’s our ‘security guy.’” he uses his hands to make bunny ears. “It won’t be long before the paparazzi start stalking us again. They get really bad during the tours.” 

No matter how much time I spend with Brendon, I forget he is actually really famous. Covers of magazines, trips to The Ellen Show, fancy hotels; the whole nine yards for the prestigious Brendon Urie.

He plugs his iPod in the second we enter the car, as if this silence is too weary. It is kind of. As we start driving to Walmart as previously planned, he starts singing to the song. I know the band, know the song. We have very similar music tastes. He just doesn’t like a lot of the older music I like. I join his vocals at the chorus. 

“It’s like the day we met.” Brendon points out. 

“Yeah.” I nod, because we did sing together in the car. “And we made that awkward eye contact before I talked to you.” 

“No, you mean right before you tripped.” he laughs. 

“I could have gotten seriously injured.” I say with a straight face that slowly cracks into a smile. Brendon just tuts and goes back to driving. “So, how is Sarah taking your departure?” 

I’m not sure why I bring it up. Sarah is a sore subject in my mind. I almost feel bad for her. I have made out with her boyfriend on more than one occasion now and might possibly think of him as more than a friend at times. Brendon doesn’t need to know that. I don’t need to know that. 

“I’m not sure.” he shrugs. “She’s coming tonight. Her and some other people. I think Lilly is, too.” 

“The pressure is on.” I say. 

We have been rehearsing since we were done at the studio. We went to our practice space and finished the live arrangements of each song on the album minus Cracked, the last minute song Brendon practically forced me to record. I told them I didn’t want to play it live, mainly because singing it by myself sounded terrifying with the giant audiences Established Heroes pulls in. We all know the set-list by heart and play each song almost perfectly. The thing we’re worried about is the people’s reactions. 

“I’m really excited for this tour.” he remarks. “It isn’t half as bad as I make it out to seem. I really do enjoy going, it’s just I’m so used to being home. I’ll fall back into this tour quickly.” 

“I’ve dreamed of this.” I confess, but don’t mind telling him. “It better be good.” 

“It’s your first round. It’ll be even better.” he shares. “Doesn’t help that I’m trying to keep up with my sister’s condition, but my parents can barely use a phone. I really don’t want to call my aunt or anything. She doesn’t really like me.” 

“Doubt it.” I blurt out. “I mean, she’s your family.” 

“You would think that.” he murmurs. Brendon glances over at me. He must notice the way I’m biting on my lip for his sake. “Don’t worry, I’ll get the balls to call them. It’s your first tour, be happier.” 

It annoys me how inexperienced I am. Who knows how many tours Brendon’s been on? I don’t like being the new kid to the scene. I really just want to skip everything and get popular and go on several tours and then work with Brendon. I would feel somewhat at his level.

When we get to the store everyone is already there. I wander back to my bandmates and watch Brendon go over his. He laughs at something Josh says then shoves him. I avert my eyes, mainly because it seems intrusive for me to be watching him all the time.

“What should we get?” Alex asks. 

Everyone shrugs, too nervous to ask anyone from Established Heroes for tips. They should know by now. I would ask Brendon, but it seems awkward making him stop and talk to me. It’s different now, being around the rest of the band. I feel devastatingly young. Brendon and Jack are only one year older than me, though. 

We go down practically every food isle, picking up different little items. When we get to the cereal aisle, I stock up the most food. I really like breakfast food, just not for breakfast. I’m picking out a Pop-tart flavor when Brendon appears with Josh. 

“Come on, Ry.” Brendon says, this big smile on his face. It’s been there since he’s been with his band mates. The fan in me freaks out. “Don’t get strawberry.” he points to the box I am cradling in my arms. 

“That’s the best flavor!” I argue. “It’s a classic.” 

“You’re a classic.” Brendon laughs, picking out a chocolate flavored box. 

“Why thank you.” I mock curtsey. 

I hear Brendon and Josh laugh and I have that good feeling inside myself. It’s kind of pathetic, really. I just always end up feeling proud when I make people laugh, or they seem like they aren’t bothered by my presence. I think it’s from the plenty years of refuge I took in middle school and most of high school. 

“Hey, can you get a ride back to the venue? Josh and I are going to go back to my place real fast before we have our soundtrack, since ours is later and everything.” Brendon asks. 

I nod, because I doubt anyone, well maybe Dallon, would have an issue bringing me back. When Brendon gives me a parting smile, I’m half tempted to remind him he is needed in Mind Set. It’s one of the last songs we perform, though. 

I look out into the vast amount of empty seats spread out. It’s a large venue. Destined to be almost full. My fingers still manage to run without my brain telling them what to do. I hit all the right notes on my older guitar. I keep beat with my head and glance over at Alex. He looks like he is in his one world, singing to the songs with as much enthusiasm as he will have for the show not that far away. 

We do a few songs, having to stop several times. I keep quiet, not wanting to be unprofessional. When we are finally done, we all head to a backstage room that we’re sharing with Established Heroes. Jack is the only person in there. He’s doing something on his phone. 

“Hey, guys.” he says, greeting us with a smile. “How was sound check?” We all answer quietly, with ‘okay’ or ‘good.’ “So much enthusiasm.” he muses. 

“Nervous.” Alex admits. 

“You guys sounded good.” Jack assures. “You’ll do fine.” 

I watch as Alex goes red, ducking his head so no one can see. I smirk a little, then pick up an abandoned acoustic on the floor. I play some random chords, trying not to think about the show but inevitably my brain goes there. No one knows who we are or even our album, so we have to impress. It was something that was stressed on us by our new manger who we have only spoken a handful of times to. 

I will be happier when we finally get to leave. I don’t want to stay here. I didn’t want to think of my parents or Pete. My parents aren’t coming tonight. Meetings or some shit. Just an excuse, I’m sure. I don’t really mind, though. I don’t want them in my business. They haven’t bothered to listen to our music before, so why start now? Cracked is a lot about them. They wouldn’t know even if they did listen to it. 

My dad still thinks what I’m doing is a joke, maybe even a phase. I am fortunate my family has the money for me to ‘try’ this out. I know this is what I want. I have never had a doubt about it. I hope one day my dad will see it my way. Probably not. When I left the house, he was in a bad mood. 

“Trying to impress me?” Jack says. I’m pulled out of my thoughts. 

“What?” I ask. 

“You’re playing one of our songs.” he points to the guitar. I immediately stop strumming when I realize I am playing Countdown To This. 

“Sorry, I didn’t even notice.” I say and it’s my turn to turn bright red. 

“Nah, it’s cool.” he tells me. “Play better than Brendon.” Jack scoffs, winking at me. I laugh in spite of myself and start up playing one of my own songs instead. 

Brendon, Josh, and Patrick walk in the room not long after. They all are laughing about something. “Good choice on guitar.” Brendon says to my general direction. I furrow my brows. “I need it for sound check, though.” 

“Oh.” I snap out of whatever daydream I am in, and hand his guitar. I would have still picked it up even if I knew it was his. A guitar is a guitar. 

“Thanks. C’mon, Jack! Sound check awaits.” 

“The excitement is surging through me.” Jack mutters sarcastically and they all leave. 

I sit there, feeling like now all I have are my thoughts. That’s a dangerous thing for me. I try to concentrate on my surroundings. The white walls are plastered with band posters and most of them I have never heard of. I hear the beginning sounds of one of Established Heroes’ first songs. 

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” I say, then abruptly leave the room. 

It was killing me to be in there. I know hundreds of bands have waited for their concert to start in that same room. I don’t want to think about performing. I manage to find my way to a bathroom and there is no one else in it. 

I walk up to the sink and instantly see my weary reflection staring back at me. I am quick to run my fingers through my hair. It looks like it always does: a mess. I want to get it cut. Maybe shorter, or make it spiky. I guess I should have done that before the tour. I can see the prevalent bags under my eyes. In all, I’m not a big fan of mirrors. They remind me of why I never look at them in the first place. I’m not a big fan of myself. 

I take one last glance before wetting my hands and then splashing some water on my face. I don’t want to be this drowsy mess for the show. I had a feeling I would pick up some buzz when we preformed. There is no way you can go out into a crowd of that many people and feel tired. 

When I leave the bathroom, I find my legs leading me to the stage. People walk around me, ignoring me and possibly noticing the tour pass around my neck. I watch the band play. They all look bored. There is this spark, though. They still look happy to play. It’s something I sometimes worry about with Brendon. What if he gets bored? Is that possible? To get bored with a career like that? My days are few, so I’m not sure. 

I keep watching. Brendon is smiling widely, bobbing his head along to the music and jumping around with the microphone in one hand. In between his singing parts he walks up to Jack and says something. They both burst out in laughter. I can’t help but to smile, because every fan wants to see happy band mates. 

I finally move and go back to the room where the rest of my band is in. They look up to see who it is then go back to their phones. We’re a quiet bunch. Most of the time. I keep tempo of the songs they are playing and watch the time move slowly on the clock. 

One minute. Five minutes. Twenty Minutes. Into the future I go.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12  
I wake up to the bus actually stopped. When I scramble out of the blankets that confide me, I make my way to the lounge and see the band. They’re already dressed, nibbling on an assortment of foods. I open one of the cabinets and pull some cereal out. 

“Morning, sunshine.” Alex says, getting up to throw something away. He shakes his hands through my already-messy hair and I lean away from his touch. I’m still exhausted.

“Morning, Alex.” I mumble, through bites. 

“We’re going out to eat before sound check, you wanna come?” 

It’s our fourth show tonight. The other nights were all amazing. We might have been more nervous than ever, but I think we performed well. I guess our album sales have picked up. People like our music. It’s a strange feeling, but I don’t mind one bit. Performing has become something I love. I don’t want to stop. While I do love sleep, spending time on stage is better. The bands have been spending more time together, too. We all don’t seem to mind each other's company. I feel at home now. I don’t feel as awkward and star struck around Established Heroes. Not to mention, the Established Heroes bus is loaded with alcohol. Since no one in our band is legal, we don’t. But they always share with us, smiling like it’s all a big secret. 

After the first show, Lilly and some other relatives came backstage. Lilly kept staring at Brendon and me. I do kind of regret telling her. I made sure to keep distance from Brendon. Sarah was there, so it wasn’t hard. She kept whispering things into his ear and grabbing at his waist. I am really hoping Lilly didn’t see how quickly my eyes adverted.

I’m not really sure how she truly feels about what I told her. She didn’t seem to mind. It could have been the fact that I was having a shitty day and I probably looked like I needed a hug, but she didn’t seem to be too disgusted. I didn’t think Lilly would be a homophobe or anything, it’s just that her sister is the girlfriend Brendon is ‘cheating’ on. It really doesn’t count, though. It’s not cheating if you just kiss and that’s it. Nothing more after that. Ever again. 

“Would you hate me if I said I would rather sleep?” I ask. I need it. I used to think that getting up for school was the death of me. My perspective has been forever changed. 

“Nah,” he shakes his head. “You look awful.” 

I give him a distasteful look. “Thanks.” 

“He’s right, though.” Spencer calls out from the couch. 

I grab my bowl of cereal and walk over to him. I sit in between Dallon and Spencer, making them move over so I can take Alex’s recently evacuated seat. The couch is small, even for my skinny ass. I munch on my cereal as Alex sings something I barely recognize. 

“Are you singing my song?” I say awkwardly. I don’t mind, it’s just odd to hear it from someone else. 

“Ha, I guess I am.” he says, like he didn’t realize he was. “Singing off my own album? I’m truly a narcissist rock star, guys.” 

We all smile. “Hey, we do have an interview next week.” Dallon says. “It’s with Established.” 

“Ooh,” Spencer says. “Shall we ruin it for them?” We all exchange small smiles at the comment, but the conversation doesn’t move further.

“Come on, guys.” Alex says. “I want to walk to that restaurant we saw passing by this morning.” 

I watch them all exit the bus and I sigh when they are out. The bus is completely empty. I’m finding if you are truly alone on tour, you enjoy the silence. Most of it is spent with people everywhere. Now, all I can hear is myself breathing. It’s calming. 

After finishing my bowl of cereal, I take it to the sink and head off to the bunks. I do want to take advantage of that extra sleep time. I climb into the bunk and pull back the cloth that separates me from the bus. It still wasn’t very dark. I quickly get comfortable and close my eyes. I am expecting sleep to come at me quickly, but I have no such luck. I keep opening my eyes and looking around. I can’t sleep. I stay in bed anyway. I know if I lay in here long enough I will fall asleep. 

I find earbuds and turn my iPod on shuffle. I stay on my back, so I don’t have to lean on one earbud. Sleep still doesn’t come. I probably have an hour before anyone comes back. My mind goes to the next best thing to sleep. 

I slowly bring my hand down to my pants waistband and hold it there. There really is no time to masturbate when you’re on tour. I think I should take this wide open opportunity. I push my pants and my boxers down to my mid-thigh and my hand creeps to my slowly hardening dick. I let out a hot hiss when my hand touches it. It’s then when I realize it’s been way too long. I close my eyes and feel my hand slide on the sensitive skin. My mouth falls open a little, my breaths getting heavier and heavier. 

I start going faster, pre-cum helping. I feel myself getting there. I know I shouldn’t drag it out because, even if they won’t be home very soon, I don’t want to take any chances.

I really do try my best to think of girls because that’s what guys think about when they do this. It’s just everything feels better when I think of Brendon. Everything feels hotter, more intense. I think of the way we made out, and yearn for his skin. There must be something wrong me. 

I keep a good pace until a whipping of cloth makes me snap open my eyes and quickly pull out my earbuds. To my horror, Brendon is standing in the aisles of the bunks. He must have walked in and I didn’t notice because of my music. He looks completely shocked and his mouth is slightly open, like he wants to say something but can’t. He’s only opened the curtain halfway but it’s enough. 

“Sorry, god.” he breaths, looking down to the ground. I’m sure my face is redder than ever. He puts his hands in his pockets, as if he’s trying to contain himself. Something about it, makes me anxious. “Uh, it’s just that your manager wanted to talk to you about something. I, um, sorry, I’m just going to leave.” 

I watch, mortified as Brendon starts walking off. My hand is still on my dick and I realize that the person I was just thinking of dirty scenarios about, is right here. I don’t know why, but I can’t help but open my mouth. “Wait!” 

I know I have been having this inner battle with myself for the longest time about my sexuality, but maybe Brendon is right. I could be bisexual. It doesn’t sound that bad. I know not twenty minutes ago I was saying that I wouldn't do anything else with him. It’s just he’s here. My brain isn’t exactly working when Brendon looks damn good as usual and my mind's just not working. I just know what I want now, and if my brain will regret it later, well then what the fuck ever. 

Brendon turns around, confusion on his face. He can barely look me in the eyes, but we both manage, which is really something for me. We stare at each other, me wordlessly asking him. It’s something I would never, ever see myself doing. Here I am, though, practically begging.   
He takes a tentative step, as if he’s testing the water. I keep watching, letting him know he’s right. He walks up to the bunk, not daring to look further than my face. “You sure?” 

I barely nod, and Brendon is toeing off his shoes and sliding into the bunk next to me like lightning. Maybe I’m not the only one who wanted this. It’s the strangest arrangement ever, but I don’t care. God, I just want him closer to me. We are both quick to start kissing. There isn’t much room, but Brendon still manages to hover over me. His hands have found their way under my shirt and he’s touching my skin. 

“Brendon.” I whine, because he knows why I asked him to stay. I was almost done when he got here. And he is on top of me and I’m sure he can feel me on his crotch, because I sure as hell can say the same. 

There’s a muffled laugh, then one of his hands silently dragging downwards. I have my hands on his waist, mimicking the way he went under my shirt. He seems to know more about this than I do. Not that surprising, I guess. 

As Brendon’s hand goes down, he completely maneuvers around my cock and skips to the spot on my thigh right under it. He rubs at the patch of skin and I breathe in and exhale loudly. I buck my hips upward, hoping to show him I’m serious about needing this. 

“Someone is needy.” he laughs, through our kissing. He is dead right. 

He doesn't seem to ignore my want anymore, his hand finding its way to my cock. It feels better than my hand ever did, or anyone else's for that matter. I let out a moan I didn’t even think I had. His hand is at a funny angle, but he still manages to pump up and down. 

“Brendon, fuck.” I sigh. It doesn’t even sound like my voice. It sounds like I need whatever Brendon can give me and I’m desperate for it. 

I’m usually not vocal, but god, whatever Brendon is doing seems way better than anything else I’ve ever experienced. He keeps going, but tightens at the upstroke. He stops kissing me and attacks my neck. I bite my lip as his leaves a wet trail to my collarbone. We’re both taking shallow breaths, our stomachs caving in and out. 

He suddenly stops his hand movements and just pauses on my dick. “Bren.” I cry out. I can feel the want exploding in me. I need his hand moving. Thankfully, he starts at it again. I sigh and moan at the same time and realize that was exactly the reaction Brendon wanted. It’s like he knew everything would feel better if he made me wait.

It’s not long before my orgasm hits and my whole body shudders and I let out another moan from deep in my throat. When I come into Brendon’s palm, he doesn't seem to mind. I keep my eyes closed and feel my body tingle. Something inside me stirs when I suddenly come into realization of what I’ve done. I don’t really care, either. I can’t seem to get off the high I am suddenly put on from Brendon. It slightly bothers me that the orgasm has to be the best one I’ve had...and possibly one of my quickest, which seems a little embarrassing on my part. 

I open my eyes to see Brendon staring down at me with this wicked grin on his face. “You look really hot like that.” is all he says. I give him a shy smile then quickly rummage through my backpack for the tissues my mom made me bring. I don’t even want to think about if she knew what I was actually about to use them for. Sorry, Mom. 

I hand a few to Brendon who uses them to take the cum off his hand. It does kind of ruin the mood, but I can’t really manage to care. My head is still in a frenzy, my skin tingling on his touch. I notice the bulge in his pants and know I should ask. “Do you want…?” I trail on, but he soon gets out of the bunk. 

“It’s cool.” he says quickly, putting on his shoes haphazardly. “You still have talk to your manger and stuff.” 

A bad feeling sets in my stomach. He flashes me a timid smile before leaving the bus. I realize how impulsive I was maybe five minutes after he leaves. I might have just screwed up one of the best friendships I ever had. 

As expected Brendon avoids me like the plague, like one big fucking gay sickness. It’s not that hard to ignore me, either. He’s always at some interview or doing something with his band that I am kept out of. I don’t want to intrude. I want to talk to him, explain it was more of an impulse and just stop thinking about it. While I don’t completely regret it, I know it was a mistake. 

“Considering it’s two in the morning, this isn’t that bad.” Spencer says, snagging another bite of his burrito. Trust us to find the only 24-hour Mexican food restaurant anywhere near our venue. 

Everyone’s hair is still slightly damp from the showers we were granted use of not long before making our way here. It wasn’t a whole lot of fun showering in the coldest water available, but I was happy to see my hair not greasy and myself smelling somewhat human-like. We’re all scrunched into the back of the restaurant, the paparazzi bombarding Established Heroes when they get off the bus. They tend to follow the bus around the city. It seems a little invasive, but everyone doesn’t seem to mind. I don’t think I could ever get used to that. 

“I have the same mentality for our concerts.” I joke. 

“We do okay.” Alex shrugs. 

“Except for those lyrics you fucked up in Tundra.” Spencer half-shouts. 

“You wrote those, too.” Dallon side-smirks, picking at his salad. 

I cautiously smile, soaking in the moment for what it’s worth. I don’t like having to tell myself to be happy, but it happens. I always end up critically examining every little part of my day and finding the negatives. 

“I know how you feel, man.” Brendon sympathizes. 

“That’s because you fuck up all the time.” teases Jack. “Do you guys ever listen to our sets? I’m surprised the kids even go to our concerts.” 

“All for the mega adorable Brendon Urie!” Josh now chimes in. 

“I am adorable.” Brendon counters, pouting his lips like a model. 

“If we’re lucky, he’ll take off his shirt!” Josh says in a voice higher than his own. 

“And his pants!” Jack mimics Josh’s voice.

Everyone laughs and I feel better about his hibernation from our friendship. Sure, he isn’t directly talking to me or even making eye contact but we are both in the same area. I ignore the fact that if Brendon wouldn’t have come in it would have looked weirder than him barely talking to me. Everyone knows we're friends. I am the reason our band is on this tour. 

Brendon excuses himself to the bathroom and I have this urge to follow him. It’s not often I can get alone time with him. If I follow him I will probably end up looking like a stalker of sorts. Everyone knows we're friends, though. Friends go pee together, right? 

I hurry off to the bathroom, only getting funny looks from Jack and Alex, who seem connected at the hip recently. I’m not usually like this, following guys into bathrooms so I can ‘talk’ to them. I don’t know where I got all this last minute courage. I assume it’s from performing with hundreds of people watching. 

When I push open the door Brendon is already at the sinks. The place is abandoned minus us two, and he doesn’t appear to notice my entrance. He’s staring at himself in the mirror. I watch as he moves his hair a little, then back to what it was before. 

“Do you always watch guys in the bathroom or…” he says, not moving his eyes from his own reflection and starts to wash his hands.   
“You guessed it.” I meekly smile. I guess I wasn’t feeling that courageous anymore. I don’t want to skirt around why I’m here. “So, uh, why are you avoiding me?” 

He finally looks my way. “I’m not avoiding you.” he says, his face completely void of emotion. It’s a little known fact that Brendon was actually in three commercials as a younger kid and was in drama club during middle school. 

“Oh, okay.” I nod, then walk over to the sinks. I start washing my hand. I don’t look his way, hoping he will say something before me. 

“So, you don’t believe me.” he slumps his shoulders, obviously not impressed with his acting chops. 

“Not really.” I say, going over to get paper towel. Brendon’s standing in the way, has been. I patiently wait for him to move. He doesn’t so I smile to myself. With my wet hands casted to the side, I kiss Brendon on the lips and he moves fairly quickly. It was a short kiss, the kind that’s sweet and says, ‘hello, baby.’ When I look over, he has this blush on his face that is priceless. 

“I thought you were the straight one.” he says, obviously not enjoying the satisfaction on my face.

“I thought you were the actor.” I smile wider. 

“Still don’t believe me?” I shake my head, still smiling. “If I was avoiding you why would I invite you to spend the night on my bus tomorrow night?” 

“Must’ve forgotten about that invitation.” 

It only then dawns on me that we are flirting. I was doing it without even thinking. I have only really done it with a few girls and it was kind of awkward and calculated. I preferred this more. 

“Alright.” he says, then smiles in my direction. I think he even tries to wink. I look away, laughing under my breath. 

I lean against the wall, not wanting to leave at the exact same time as him. As he’s leaving, he trips a little but manages to catch his footing before falling to the floor. I burst out in laughter. 

“Smooth, Urie.”


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13  
I’ve never been a fan of cameras. They always find a way to draw out my imperfections. Though, after almost an hour in hair and makeup, I don’t think I have that many flaws left. Well, at least physical flaws. I find myself standing in front of one of the nicest cameras I have ever seen. The photographer, a twenty-something that keeps raving about my hair, tells me to stand back to back with Brendon. For some reason, I have become the frontman for the band. It’s really only because Brendon had become friends with me and ‘discovered’ our band. There’s a sick feeling in me because I know Alex deserves it. He breathes for this band. 

“Yes, can you boys stand behind them? Perfect, that’s just, just great. Stand still, wait, you, yes the blonde one, come forward. Oh, this is just, ah, great.” the photographer is essentially talking to herself at this point. 

Brendon and the rest of his band seemed unfazed by this. I keep side-glancing Alex, both of us holding in these giant smiles. I don’t like the photo-shoot so far, but Brendon says they are easier than the interviews. We conveniently have a jointed one right after this. It seems easy for all of Established Heroes. They make these dead serious faces and the photographer oohs and ahs. Brendon looks more confident than ever, occasionally biting his lip or putting on this knowing smirk for the camera. I can’t help but to be jealous. 

“Why are you taller than me?” Brendon says, leaning back into me. The photographer is doing something on the computer with some of her collection of assistants. We all stay in the same position, though. “I’m older.” 

“But I’m cooler.” I let him know. 

“You wish, Ross.” he says. “You still coming over tonight?” 

“I was planning on it.” 

“Hey, since you’re going to our bus, I’ll go to yours.” Jack chimes into our conversation. 

“What, so I can beat your ass on all the games for Xbox?” Alex says, suddenly interested in this. 

“You obviously don’t remember a couple nights ago.” Jack scoffs. 

“Considering all the tequila shots we had, I really don’t.” Alex shoves Jack mildly. “You’re turning me into an alcoholic.” 

“Fuck off,” Jack smiles. “You were already an alcoholic before I came around.” 

“Only a few more pictures, then you will go to the interview.” the photographer comes back, a different camera in her hands. 

She directs us around, sometimes making my band leave or vice versa. It’s boring, and I feel like everyone is laughing at my bored stares into the camera. She doesn’t seem to mind them, though. Instead, she merely looks at the pictures and nods happily. If she doesn’t, she usually takes seven more. 

“Can I just have one of Brendon and Ryan?” she says, finally remembering some of our names. Brendon and I shuffle in front of her view and stand shoulder to shoulder. “Smile! You’re happy!” she shouts. 

I try to smile by force, but I know it looks awful. I can’t just smile and make it look like I’m actually happy. When Brendon looks my way, he double takes. 

“Hey,” he says, rushed. “Will you punch me in the face real quick?” 

“What?” I ask, confused 

“I need to look like I’m in pain like you.” he says, this giant smile cracking on his lips. 

I try to pull on a better smile, but I don’t think it looks anything like Brendon’s. He seems to have perfected the art of smiling. Maybe because his teeth were made for it. I notice the photographer looking disappointedly at the pictures she takes. I feel slightly guilty and try even harder to please. Brendon picks up his hands and ruffles through my hair. I give him this unimpressed look that makes him laugh. The photographer snaps the picture then dismisses us. 

“She better not choose that picture.” I mutter to Brendon where we’re out of earshot of the photographer. 

“Did Ryan Ross’ hair not look good?” Brendon mocks me. 

“Does it?” I say almost seriously. I try to fix the stray strands he moved. 

“Always.” Brendon chuckles. 

All of us are escorted out to an empty room. There are two couches, just big enough for four people on each one. We sort ourselves accordingly and wait for the interviewer. 

“Boys.” says an unapproachable-looking female. She has glossy brown hair that has a natural curl to it and her nails are painted a deep blue, presumably to match her tight jacket. I think it’s supposed to be fashionable. “How was the shoot?” she asks, with this giant alluring smile. She makes me think of the girls that go to my school who ask dumb questions. 

“Great.” Josh says, clearing his throat. Everyone follows with answers similar. 

“Exciting, exciting.” she says behind gritted teeth. “For the magazine article, we’re just going to ask some questions about the tour, about how Brendon found you guys,” she directs that part our way. “And maybe some wild cards.” she stops, and waits. I think she wants us to laugh. Brendon and Josh comply with small smiles. “Alright. Firstly, how did Brendon,” she smiles broadly at Brendon, “and Ryan meet?” she says this without looking my way. I don’t think she knows who I am. 

“I’m dating Ryan’s cousin and we met at his family reunion.” Brendon gestures my way, outstretching his arm. I feel dumb as I try to convey my interest. “Yeah, he was super nervous and stuff.” 

“Was not!” I almost yell, because I wouldn’t like that in the magazine. To my surprise, everyone in the room starts laughing. 

“Don’t believe him, he totally tripped when he first saw me.” Brendon assures to the lady. 

“That was before I knew I played guitar longer than you.” 

“Ooh, rivalry.” the interviewer bobs excitedly. I hold back my laugh. “Did you hear his music that night...or?” 

“No, I went to one of his band practices.” 

“Did you know right away you needed to get them signed?” I think what she was trying to say was ‘Did you get them signed because you were friends with Ryan or did you genuinely like his music?’ 

Brendon doesn’t fall for the trap. “I did. I’ve been around music my whole life, so I knew that July Poems had really great stuff. I had a feeling it would do really well.” 

“It certainly has!” she enthuses. “Mind Set is number one on the iTunes charts. Congratulations on that, by the way.” 

“Wait, what?” I ask, because no one has told us that. Was I the only one not informed on this? 

“Since yesterday morning, I believe.” she says, looking up and putting on a searching face. “Goes to show how hectic tour life is!” 

I blink a few times then look over at the rest of the band. Everyone else looks just as amazed. As if on cue, we all crack out in smiles. Number one. I need to turn on the radio more often. I look over at Brendon who doesn’t look as amused, but still happy. He’s used to this kind of stuff. I’m not.

“Change the movie, Ryan!” Brendon whines. He’s deep inside a blanket fortress and looks more and more tired by the way the credits roll.

“No,” I shake my head dramatically, partly trying to show that I didn’t want to get up, and I wanted to wake myself up. 

“Fucker.” Brendon mumbles as he walks off to the DVD player. “What d’ya wanna watch?” 

“Don’t care.” I say sleepily. I grab some of Brendon’s blankets and lay out of the couch. 

“No!” Brendon wails, jumping on my stomach. 

I push him off of me and sit up properly. “Well, at least I’m awake now….and have a broken rib.” 

After the interview I grabbed some things from my bunk and came over to Brendon’s bus. Jack was just leaving, grabbing some of the alcohol stashed in a high cupboard presumably purchased by Patrick. Everyone found their way to the back of the bus and sat on one of the two couches. After the third movie, Josh and Patrick went off to their bunks for the night. Now Brendon and I are the only ones left, sharing the couch closest to the TV. I keep telling myself that’s the only reason we’re sharing a couch. 

“Good, because I don’t want to sleep. A bunch of my family members are coming to the show tomorrow.” he groans. “Ryan, I can’t say anything sexual on stage now.” 

“Your parents were at the first show and you still talked about how hard you were.” I remember because my band had just gotten done, so we watched them for a while. 

“Yeah, I can’t exactly learn to censor myself. My parents have seen me perform before, so I don’t mind. I can’t slip up in front of practically my whole family. This is the super religious side, too.” 

“Why are they going to a rock concert then?” I ask, tugging at the blankets Brendon tried to steal back. He gives up and shares them with me. 

“‘Support’ I suppose.” he remarks, rolling his eyes and using his fingers to make air quotes. “Either way, I think I’ll be better if I am running on no sleep.” 

“Great logic, Bren.” 

“Coming from you.” he snorts. 

“I have great knowledge.” I amend. I let myself get serious. “How has your sister been doing?” 

“I’m not sure. I think there’s been some doctors appointments but I haven’t really heard anything. I think they’re ignoring my calls or something.” 

“Seriously?” I ask. “She’s your sister. I’m sorry, Bren.” 

“Not your fault.” he mutters. I feel like it is. 

“You never talk about your family.” It’s the same way I tried to get him to talk about Established Heroes. I wish he would just talk to me. That’s all I’m asking for. 

“You don’t either.” he points out quickly. I have a bad feeling about it already. I’ve always been quick to lure away from talking about my family, so I know the signs. 

“You’ve seen them in action.” I mutter, cringing at the memories. 

“What do you want to know?” he says, looking at his lap. “My parents are divorced. Well, I guess you already know that, right?” He looks up and I nod. Most fans do know that. He only gives me a cute smile, still looking small and sad. “All of my siblings went to live with my mom. I didn’t. Like, I love her and everything, but I couldn’t bear to leave my dad alone. He wasn’t always the happiest person and I just can’t imagine him living by himself. He’s married now. So, I guess it’s okay I’m always gone.” 

“That’s really sweet of you, Brendon.” I tell him. If my parents were to ever split, I would obviously go to live with my mom. She’s always liked me better. 

“I don’t know. I don’t think he liked me much. If he did, he never showed it. He did let me go for my dreams, though. It was just, he never seemed to care about me. I would go and see my mom for the holidays and she would ask about every little thing and all my siblings were so happy and I felt like I was just so depressed and alone.” he says with a somber look dousing his face. All I want to do is hug him, but I’m not in that cocky mindset. I’m back to being the nervous, awkward boy I usually am. 

“I know how you feel sometimes. Do you remember that day I came over to your house, really upset…” I trail on, remembering us making out. Who knows how far we could have gotten. He nods. “Well, right before that I was having a fight with my parents and I told them to get divorced. I told them. I really want to tell me that I was just angry, but I know I believe it. I really don’t want to.” 

“I think the same way. I don’t like the fact that my parents got divorced...it’s just that I know they’re happier. I cried a lot when my parents first got divorced and I told them straight up I didn’t want them to. I regret that so much.” I look over to Brendon’s face and pull him close because I can. He drops his head onto my shoulder. 

I feel whole all of a sudden. I feel like Brendon was just missing from my life and I found him. There is something so gratifying about having him here. I push closer to him. He doesn’t fight against it.

“I think the only reason my dad let me go for touring was because he’s a fucking homophobe. He found out about me having a boyfriend. He hated my guts. I mean, he did walk in on William and I, but still. We were really happy and he didn’t understand. He told my whole family about it. My sister barely talks to me anymore. I started dating girls, you know, hoping William was the only guy I wanted and I was still straight. I think I self-consciously hoped that the press would have a field day with my girlfriends. I just wanted my family to think better of me. I never felt content in those relationships, though.” 

I bite my lip awkwardly. I remember him talking about William with Dan at the store. I guess I’m not the first experience with guys for him. Believable. I can’t imagine coming out to my family, even if someone else did it for me. I guess it was probably worse for Brendon since his family is very religious. I would just never be treated the same way. 

“I know that you’re not completely sure about your sexuality and stuff, but it’s not that easy for me, either. For the longest time, I thought I was done with guys. Even though I knew I liked them more, I was forcing myself. Besides, there was no time for a relationship. Then, I went to school and god, I really liked you. I got really excited to see you every morning. Maybe I’m a narcissist for liking a fan like you, but I kind of think you’re adorable. I had planned on not acting on my feelings, but I was drunk and yeah…” he clears his throat. I feel this tension sort of build up. I’m still blushing like a girl from his comments. I silently wonder why he didn’t bring up our first kiss that morning before school. I guess it was just comfort in his eyes. “You didn’t seem to be bothered by it, so it seemed okay in my mind. I feel so bad about it all. I’m making you confused.”

“You’re not the only one.” I mumble. When I lured him into my bunk with pleading eyes, I probably wasn’t helping. 

“You’re so confusing, Ryan Ross.” he admits. “One second you’re freaking out about me moaning, but then you’re asking for a hand job. Part of me still feels bad about Sarah, too. I can’t imagine if she knew. I don’t really care that much about her, and I know I should.” I feel his arm slither around my waist. His hand is warm and it feels good. He picks his head off my shoulder, a dangerous smile painting his lips. “I won’t tell if you won’t.” 

I stare at him in disbelief for a few moments. I then realize it’s an invitation. I finally smile back. Brendon doesn’t waste any time, so he starts kissing me furiously. I bring my hand up to his hair and realize how much I missed this. I always do. 

He pushes some of the blankets away, allowing us to get closer. I feel his other hand drag under my shirt. As usual, my skin tingles at his touch. He pushes me forward so I’m lying down on the couch. He goes on top of me, like when we were in my bunk. 

He’s a lot rougher now, pulling at my hair and his fingers digging into my waist. Everything about it is hot still. I love it, but I can still hear this nagging in the back of my head. I want to continue but my head is saying no. Sadly, at the moment, my dick is overruling my head. 

“Too much clothes.” Brendon says in between kisses. 

I stop moving. “Brendon, Josh and Patrick...they could hear.” The thought is terrifying in my head. It’s weird enough to let Brendon hear me moan, but for my favorite band to hear it? No thank you. 

“Do you know how many times I have had to listen to Josh hook up?” he asks, looking annoyed. He looks like he wants this more than me. “They’re fast asleep, too. We can be quiet.” He looks at me for last minute oppositions, but it doesn't seem that bad anymore. Plus, the feelings in my body seem stronger than the ones in my head again. I nod, smiling a little.

Brendon starts kissing me again. He pulls off my shirt, us stopping midway for the cloth to pass over my face. I feel suddenly bare, but it’s just Brendon. He did just admit how much he liked me. I feel his hands go down to my belt, slowly unhinging it and tugging it out of its loops. I run my hands under his shirt, on his toned stomach. I want to see it, but I’ll wait for Brendon to finish with my pants. He tugs them off, having some difficulty with the way they practically stick to my skinny legs. 

“God, Ryan, if you get anymore skintight jeans, I may never be able to get into your pants.” We both laugh. I attempt to help him. 

Once my pants are off and just my boxers remain on me, I feel underdressed. I am quick to take off Brendon’s shirt. He doesn’t seem to mind, complying with my movements. I stare at his chest and bring my hands to run over its perfectly smooth skin. Brendon smiles down at me. 

“Mm, Ryan.” he says sweetly. “I really wanna blow you right now.” 

My eyes must have shown acceptance because Brendon starts to inch down my body. He kisses my bare stomach a few times. Stopping every once in a while to look up at me and smile. Every time he does, I get these giant flocks of butterflies. His hands trace the waistband of my boxers, teasing me. He knows I have no patience. I bite my lip because suddenly I’m nervous. 

“I love when you bite your lip.” Brendon tells me. 

I smile down at him and don’t feel as nervous because he likes me. He must like me if he is willing to give me a blow job. I always feel like everyone hates me but there is something so acknowledgeable in his eyes. I found someone who doesn’t seem to be annoyed by my presence. 

Brendon pulls my boxers down and I kick them to the floor. Suddenly, I have no time to be embarrassed. I mean, he’s about to give me a blow job and I can almost guarantee his will beat that girl who gave me my first in sophomore year. 

Brendon’s scrunched at the end of the couch, but doesn’t seem to mind. He kisses me softly on the inside of my thighs, again avoiding my hard dick. I whine quietly. He starts sucking on the skin, knowing how much I want him to touch me more.

He finally puts his hand on my cock and I exhale shakily. Somehow it feels better than it did a few days ago. He barely touches me before his tongue is licking the tip. I moan, biting my lip halfway through, trying to not make as much noise. Brendon smiles at me, then drags his tongue on the underside of my cock. 

“Brendon.” I breathe out. 

He takes me in his mouth all the way. I lean my head back on to the couch, my mouth agape. A string of curse words fall from my lips. I’m not sure how we went from him telling me about his family to him giving me a blow job, but I don’t care. His mouth tightens on my cock and I have to bite my arm so I don’t moan out. He seems way too good at this. I place my hand back into his hair and pull at it gently. He closes his eyes, seeming content.   
He does this for a few minutes, until I feel like I can’t take it anymore. “Brendon,” I cry out. “I’m so close.” 

He doesn’t take his mouth off, instead sucks harder. One of his hands goes to my hips, having a tight grip. I quickly let myself unravel, coming straight into Brendon’s mouth. He doesn’t seem to mind, swallowing it all. I’m practically shaking, feeling amazing. 

Brendon creeps up my body and starts heatedly kissing me. I can taste myself on his tongue; it’s strange and hot all at the same time. I am quick to tug on his belt, trying to get it off. 

Brendon pauses. “You don’t have to.” It sounds forced. 

“No, please let me.” I whimper. I want to make him come badly. I want him moaning my name more than anything right now.

He brings his hands down to his belt and helps me, obviously happy with my decision. We both push down his pants and boxers at once. I am hesitant to touch him considering I have never touched another guy’s dick. Thankfully, Brendon grabs my hand and places it on himself. I move my hand up and down, showing that I know what I’m doing. 

He hisses, obviously enjoying my touch. It makes me feel great. I take my hand off of him and bring it to my mouth. He whimpers, not liking my hand being gone. I try to look somewhat seductive as I lick my palm, but I’m fairly certain I look ridiculous. Brendon’s eyes still gleam with darkness.   
I bring it back to his dick and start moving it over his skin. He moans out, more loudly than any of mine. He doesn’t seem to regret it, either. “Been waiting so long for this.” he chokes out. I quickly jump on his lips, his words making me want him even more. 

I’m not really sure what to do with my other hand so I start at the top of his back and slowly drag it downwards. He shivers slightly and I hope it’s a good thing. I move my hand down lower and clutch his ass. It’s something I don’t ever see myself doing, but here I am making Brendon moan into my mouth. I stop kissing him, the both of us breathing heavily. We stare into each other’s eyes and I can’t even stop. He looks so turned on, it’s killing me. 

I finally manage to stop and go down to his neck. I place light kisses then nibble on his soft skin. “Ryan, fuck.” his voice sounds, slowly turning into a moan. I can feel my own dick hardening all over again. 

It’s not long before Brendon comes, crying out my name just the way I wanted. My hand is sticky with him, but my heart is happy. I wipe my hand onto my stomach and pull Brendon close. I nip at his ear, happy to be alive. Happy to be with him.

“I won’t tell.” I whisper into his ear. Sarah never needs to know.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14  
"You did amazing!" One of Brendon's aunts yells at him. 

I back up so he can go and hug her. He does so with wide eyes and a shock to his step. I swear, his sleep schedule must be killing him. He completely succeeded in staying up all night. He's been sipping on energy drinks from the venue fridge for the last seven hours. After a better show, his countless relatives filed into our small green room while we were on a leftover pizza binge. 

"Save some hugs for me." Sarah whines, her hands grabbing for Brendon's feminine waist. I cringe and look away. 

She came as a surprise. Even though I have Brendon with me during the night, he's always back to her by day. She literally flew out to Michigan to stay with family and see 'her baby' perform for the second time this tour. As expected the second I saw her walk in with two bags, she's staying on the bus for a few nights. In Brendon's just-big-enough-for-two-people bunk. 

"Always." Brendon whispers to her, a smile burning his lips. 

The rest of his family is thankfully not as touchy, rather they make idle chit chat with his tour mates. Some of them know about me and ask for my autograph, which is stranger than a random fan asking. Everyone doesn't stay long, saying that the younger members have school in the morning. 

I try not to think about school, but I know I must return sooner or later. The mountainous amount of homework is still lying untouched in the crevices of my tour suitcase. Every time I open my bag to get something somewhat clean out, I swear, it's practically screaming for me to do something. I never do. Plus, once I go back Brendon won't even be there. He only has a few tests and then he's going off someplace to record his next record. I haven't even kept up with Gabe or Jon. They text occasionally, but I pretend not to see it and power off my phone. Social exchanges with the real world seem tremendously miserable right now.

Once all of the family is gone I cling onto Spencer and Alex, having lost my main source of interest to the wicked witch of the west. Bus call is in ten minutes so I decide that I might as well go in early and reserve my spot on the front lounge couch.

I'm still housing in the Established Heroes bus so I get to spend the entire night listening to Brendon talk to Sarah about anything and everything. The worst part is that they talk more than Brendon and I. It actually worries me. I still manage some air when we stop to get more gas for the bus.

I run out of the bus, nearly hitting the happy couple. Once inside the gas station, I try to look for some food to hopefully comfort the weird feelings that are haunting me. I know Brendon said the whole 'us doing naughty things but still edging on romantic relationship' thing was a secret, but God, I just want to yell it out to Sarah. I don't know how subtle I could tell her... "Hey, cousin of mine, your boyfriend totally gave me head and, wow, I liked it a lot." I don't see that in the cards. 

I spend a good ten minutes looking for food, but putting it back when I decide I should probably go to the bathroom before we leave. 

When I step into the decent sized room, I feel relieved that there aren't bugs crawling around everywhere. I've seen those bathrooms way too many times on this tour. In the corner of my eyes I spot a figure on the ground. At first I'm kind of terrified it's like some kind of druggie, because I don't know what kind of town we're in. Then I realize it's Brendon. He's got his head in his hands and there's a phone, shattered, next to him. The scene looks a lot like the first time we kissed. It's just a different place and we're different people. 

"Woah, Brendon..." I say, losing any form of anger towards him I have built up during the night. 

He looks up, his eyes red and I instantly walk over to him. "No." he says, jumping up quickly. "I-we need to get back to the bus. We're going to be, uh, late." 

"Brendon, they won't care." I step closer slowly. I can’t let him go. He looks so broken and I bet I could help. He always helps me with my problems. 

He only flinches and snatches the evidently broken phone off the ground. "Ryan, seriously. It's nothing."   
Even as he says it with his signature emotionless face, I can tell it's not nothing. "I'm only trying to help." I say quietly, trying to envelope him in a hug. 

He sidesteps and heads to the doors, sniffing before saying, "Sarah's waiting."

After that comment, I just let him go. Sure. Sarah can fix everything. I just hate watching him leave, clutching onto his phone like it failed him. I don't bother going to the bathroom or even buying snacks. I just go back to the bus and see Sarah and Brendon cuddling on the couch. Brendon notices my arrival and possibly tries to give me an apology with his eyes, but I don't bother with pity. I go to the back lounge with my phone and start writing down song ideas. The words seem to flow nicely together and I don't try to censor my thoughts like usual. About a half hour in, Josh comes to hang out with me. 

"Hiding out?" Josh asks, his tone not giving anything away. I slightly panic, wondering if he heard us the other night. I try to search his face for a hint that he knows. I don’t spot anything. "I don't blame you; they seem a little lovesick." 

I mentally sigh. It doesn't sound as suspicious. "Kind of." I agree. My fingers anxious to write down more words.

"So, what are you up to?" he says, not even dropping his eyes to my phone. I'm grateful for that.

"Writing." 

"Brendon mentioned something about you writing. You any good?" 

I draw up an eyebrow at him. "I don't think I'm at the liberty to answer that." And sure, Brendon and Alex can tell me they like my writing but they could just be trying to be nice. 

"You wrote the lyrics for Cracked, right?" I nod on cue. "I heard that before I went on a few shows ago. It's good." 

"Thanks." I say, still not taking compliments as well as everyone else yet. "What was wrong with Brendon?" I ask, suddenly remembering, which really isn't too great for me.

"He didn't even tell you?" he looks shocked as I shake my head. "Damn, well, he hasn't told anyone. Kind of being a little bitch about it." 

I laugh when he does, but feel a little cruel as I do. It must be something important if he threw his phone and he's not telling anyone. I feel my stomach swell up a little; maybe he is saving it for me. Just maybe he's waiting for Sarah to leave and he'll cuddle with me and we'll watch old movies and he'll finally mention it. I’ll comfort him and we’ll figure things out and be happy. 

I really need to stop with these dangerous daydreams. 

"Hm," Josh says. "I'm gonna go to bed. Night." he waves a little. 

"I'm following." I mutter, claiming my phone from the table. 

I don't bother with my clothes, my eyes suddenly feeling heavier than they were before. Josh has embedded sleep into my head and there is no way

I'm going to let it pass. I climb into my shared bunk and let myself near sleeps dark edges. 

I think I was managing a slight doze when I hear some banging and light hearted laughter from the bunk across from mine. I just decide that Sarah and Brendon are going to bed, nothing else. I don't think he would do that to me.

I start to doubt myself when I can hear the telltale sounds of lips smacking together. I turn around hoping to block the sound, my earbuds conveniently tucked away in my backpack that's in the front lounge. It sounds weird to get up and retrieve them now. I can still hear them, though. I can't stand the pain that's glistening in my chest. God, they are dating. That's what couples do. I just know that Brendon and I have done the same thing, and that's enough to make me angry at them. 

They suddenly stop, and I get a terrifying thought that they are touching or something worse. I really do try to block it out because, hey, that's my cousin and the kid who's completely confusing me about my sexuality. I hear soft talking, though. It's just barely audible, but I can make out chunks.

"Baby, just tell me." says a voice that obviously belongs to Sarah. 

"It's nothing, Sar." Brendon says, his voice sounding distressed. If I'm not there to make Brendon feel better then Sarah better fucking do her job well.

"Brendon." she says seriously.

"You know Ann, right?" he says. I can imagine Sarah nodding or shaking her head here. "Well, I called my parents to see how one of her appointments went and they fucking ignored me. So then I called my brother and he told me that they were 'busy' and I probably shouldn't call for a while and all this other bullshit. And, fuck, she's my sister and I can't even talk to her or know how she's doing. I didn't even do anything, Sarah. They just hate me." 

There's a long pause and I can hear ruffling of blankets and I hope Sarah is hugging him because I can tell he needs it. There's a few sniffles and I can hear Sarah's barely there. "It's okay." I feel sick. I just want to be Sarah. I want to comfort him.

I force myself to stop listening, feeling like I intruded on something much too personal all of a sudden. There's a soft thudding in my chest and I try to ignore it. It's Sarah and Brendon, not Ryan and Brendon. 

I strum the last few chords then as the song finishes with Alex yelling out the final words. I go to the back of the stage, taking a drink of my water bottle. The familiar thudding of the bass drum reminds me we are on the last song of the set. I go back to the front of the stage and take my usual position behind my microphone. I stare out into the sea of kids. I’ve noticed at the past few shows there are people singing along. Alex looks my way and smiles broadly before he directs his attention back to the crowd. 

“We’re July Poems and this is our last song.” he says, sounding out of breath. 

Dallon, Alex, and I all look each other’s ways, before kicking into the song all at the same time. This song, Alex plays rhythm guitar. He usually ends up playing that or piano. I nod my head to the tempo and sing the backups at the appropriate times. Too many shows have passed. I kind of liked it before, when we had minor problems that we would laugh about later on. Now, we usually play everything dead on. 

Loud screams from the crowd pull me out of my thoughts. I see Brendon come on stage, wireless microphone in his hands already. He’s not in his stage clothes, just the clothes he got here in. Perfectly on cue, he starts singing his verse. As usual, I make my way towards him, us meeting halfway. We haven’t done it in a while, Sarah being here and all. She would always stand at the side of the stage and send Brendon these cute smiles and Brendon would stand on the opposite side the entire time so she could see him. Not that I’ve been staring. We both sing out the held note and smile at each other once we finish. It’s a routine that we’ve perfected show after show. 

Life should be like this all the time. There’s this genuine happiness blooming in me at practically every moment of the day. It’s something that’s peculiar and new-found but not bad. Any moment it’s gone, I find myself longing it. While Brendon being with Sarah has pushed me slightly, I manage to ignore my feelings. I wanted to be singing with Brendon. I wanted to be laughing with my band mates on my tour bus. I wanted to be told my album is selling really well. I wanted to be happy. Suddenly, all of this has happened and it’s too good to be true. 

I watch Brendon saunter off to the middle of the stage, near Alex. He sings enthusiastically, throwing his hands in the air and straining his voice to reach the high notes. There’s something inspirational sparking through me whenever I watch him perform. I can’t quite place my finger on it, but it’s there and catching fire. 

Soon enough, Brendon is back towards me. His part is about to end, so he gets extremely close to me. Whenever he does it I can hear the girls scream, adoration along with it. I always smile goofily and shake my head like it’s the craziest thing ever but I adore it just as much. He finishes his singing part and brings the microphone down to his side, not bothering to look out into the sea of people who are screaming for him. Rather, his eyes are transfixed onto me. He’s smiling like he’s won the world, and I can’t help but to smile right back with just as much happiness. Right before he ventures off the stage, he kisses me on the cheek. I blush, hearing the screams and give a half-hearted wave to the crowd.

I know all the guys saw Brendon’s harmless kiss; they see it every night. They wouldn't ever suspect Brendon and I were ever actually messing around. Though it might seem a little suspicious we stopped our little act when Sarah was here. 

I have heavy footsteps as I walk backstage. We used to have to pack all of our stuff up but now people do it for us. Apparently we’re that big. I laugh out loud at the thought. 

“Why are you laughing?” Alex says with this knowing smile played on his lips. He looks worn out, sweat piled on his face and the back of his shirt. His hair has started to get that natural wave back from the straightening he did relentlessly before the show. 

“Nothing.” I say, laughing more than I was before. 

“You’re so stupid.” he shoves me. I almost fall, but he grabs my arm right before my feet give away. 

Everyone starts laughing and it’s obvious we’re just high on performing. I remember hearing people talk about how after you play you just have this adrenaline you have to find a way to run off, and it’s true. After every show we’re always jumping around and joking around and just having a good time in general. 

“Okay!” I agree with Alex and wrap my arm around his shoulder, leaning against him slightly. 

We walk into the green room and spot Established Heroes all in their stage clothes. Brendon is the only one still changing out of his flannel. He’s unbuttoning his shirt, button by button showing his toned stomach. I try to look away as I take a seat on the couch but I can’t manage. My trance is broken when Brendon coughs lightly into his palm. I look up to see him with a silly, questioning look on his face. I wink flirtatiously. He bursts out laughing, shirt still not on. I widen my eyes and force myself to look away. No one bats an eye at our strange behavior.

I kind of wish I could be just a little angry at Brendon for the whole Sarah thing, but I can’t be. They are in a relationship and Brendon and I aren’t. It’s a simple equation that doesn’t seem to run through my head so smoothly. I can ignore things, though. Plus, Brendon is too damn perfect in my eyes for me to be angry at. 

It’s not long before Established Heroes leave to prepare for their set. I’m still smiling. I’m always smiling recently. I settle into the couch and flop my feet onto Spencer’s lap. He doesn’t seem to mind. 

“You know,” he tells me. “We’re supposed to be thinking of ideas for a music video of Mid-Afternoon Waltz. Apparently it’s really popular.” 

“Seriously?” I ask. I know the album is doing really well, but I wasn’t sure about the songs alone.

“Yeah, they want to release it as a single or something.” he nods. 

“We should obviously do something old fashioned.” Dallon says. He and I have finally warmed up to each other. 

I hear a few guitars being played and realize that the timid, local opening act is back. The two guitarists and Alex are all holding acoustics strumming along to a song I don’t recognize. Spencer is tapping along with some abandoned drumsticks on the table. It’s an environment I have always longed for. A giant mess of musical people are striving for the same dream. I love it all. 

We spend some more time in the green room, not wanting to retreat to the bus just yet. We can hear the faint melodies to Established Heroes songs and I hum along occasionally. 

I hear a phone ringing and suddenly everyone quiets. There’s some questioning looks until I realize it’s my phone. I reach over to the glass table to retrieve it as everyone goes back to playing. I notice my mom on the screen’s caller ID. I tense up but still answer it. 

“Hey, one sec, Mom. I need to go somewhere quieter.” I say standing up and walking out from the green room and towards the empty bathrooms. “‘Kay, what’s up?” 

“How’s tour been?” she just asks, sounding nervous. I instantly get mutual feelings. 

“I just got done playing a show.” I say, something proud stinging into my words. 

“Oh!” she exclaims. “How was it?” 

I think back to Brendon kissing me on the cheek, that devilish grin on his face. I smile and reply. “Great, it was really great.” 

“That’s good.” she sighs, which worries me to no extent. “I don’t mean to ruin your spirit, but I have some bad news.” 

I guess she noticed. The way I sound happy instead of dreary and unsure of what to do with my life. I feel content for once and have the confidence to show it. “What?” I ask. 

“Your father and I have decided upon something.” she says, sounding shaky. “We just—well, do you remember what you told us that one day?” she doesn’t wait for me to answer, even if I knew. “You said that you wanted your father and I to, well, get a divorce. We have thought it through,” there’s a long pause. “We think it’s for the best we do. Ryan, this really has nothing to do-” 

“What?” I interrupt, my good moods instantly sinking, pain filling up the ship and the passengers drowning. 

“Honey, it’s for the better and-” 

“Don’t call me that!” I snap, interrupting her another time. There is this particular stinging in the center of my chest and I temporally forget how to breathe. “Please tell me you’re joking.” I say, and it might be to myself or to her. 

“To be completely honest, Ryan, we’ve been planning this for a while. We filed for divorce a while before you told us that. We were going to tell you then but with the stress of the recording and tour we decided it was better to just wait. I assumed you wanted to know, so yeah.” she finishes oh-so eloquently. 

“Mom,” I breathe out. “You...you fucking finally decide to listen to something I say and you choose this? And then,” I’m shouting at this point. “And then you decide to tell me right now, while I’m the happiest I’ve ever been?” 

“I’m sorry.” I can barely hear her whisper into the phone. She sounds pained, like she’s offended that the happiest time of my life wasn’t spent anywhere near her. I hope it hurts. I hope it fucking breaks her heart.

“No, no you’re not!” I bark into the phone. “Don’t even pretend for a second you are.” 

I hang up the phone, not wanting to hear my mom’s voice reply. I really want to throw my phone into the wall, but refrain from it. Instead, I lean against the wall and breathe in shallow breaths. A sharp ringing echoes through the bathroom and I instantly turn off my phone. I don’t even know why she bothered calling back. 

I walk over the sinks, staring at my reflection. I despise the way my hair still looks slightly damp from performing. I barely even sweat, but it still manages it. I hate the way my face is naturally red from the anger surging through me. I loathe the way my eyes tell this tragic story I want to keep to myself but it becomes unraveled if you look hard enough. 

I turn my back from the mirror and close my eyes. This is all my fault. I should have never said anything. I just assumed they would never listen to me. They have never cared about what I tell them. It was more of an excuse, though. They filed for it before I told them. I suddenly remember all the paperwork they would never let my prying eyes read. I remember the angry looks and days they had to ‘go out with friends’ or ‘stay late for work.’ They were just lying to me so they could work on that. It’s one big scheme and I hate being part of it. 

I snap open my eyes when I hear footsteps in the bathroom hallway. I don’t want anybody to see me right now, so I escape into one of the stalls. I lean into the plastic wall and try to keep my heavy breathing to a minimum. 

I can hear a person walk in. I shut my eyes, hoping they don’t notice my presence. It’s quiet until I hear a sink turn on. I breathe in a little once the noise breaks the silence. Somebody starts singing. They do so loudly, going through a scale in practiced precision. Brendon hits every note, sounding pleased with himself. I wonder if he can tell I’m here. 

I peak through the gaps of the stall and see him fixing his hair. He’s moving his head with every note. I smile feebly and have to force myself to stay in the stall. All I want to do is go out and beg for a hug. He would care, make sure I was all right before departing.

I can’t do that to him, though. He’s about to perform and I don’t want him to put my burdens on him. It’s nothing really. He wouldn't care. I would seem like a baby. His parents got divorced when he was younger and he seems so okay with it. He doesn’t seem that bad at talking about it. My smile soon evaporates, any traces wiping clean. He didn’t want to tell me what was wrong with him when Sarah was here, so I don’t need to tell him what’s wrong with me. I don’t think he would feel the same way as I did if he knew I was withholding information. 

Brendon starts singing these incredibly high notes. All I want to do is kiss him. He looks so beautiful in his own world. I realize this is his pre-show ritual. It then dawns on me I have never seen him right before he goes on. He must prefer to do it alone. Something about that is respectable. 

He finishes up and begins to walk out. I have this final urge to jump out and grab onto him, but instead I stay concealed. When he is long gone, I sigh loudly. I slide to the floor, ignoring the fact that it is probably extremely dirty. I feel tears prick the sides of my eyes but I keep it together. I don’t cry. I don’t need to cry. I told them to separate so I shouldn’t be surprised. 

I’m still in shock, though. You just expect your parents to grow old together, not separate when times get tough. I never want to do that. I never want to get married. It will just end badly. I can’t stand that thought. 

Suddenly every part of my childhood seems artificial. Were they really happy or just faking it for me? I figured it out when I was older, but they could have been acting even when I was young. It makes me sick. 

I’m the reason, too. I told them. I can’t stand myself. I want to jump out of my body, get rid of this guilt that’s tearing me apart. I have no one to stitch me up. I can’t tell Brendon. He would just be disappointed. I’m the new kid who obviously already has issues he needs to work out by himself. I don’t need Brendon judging me, or even worse, feeling pity for me. 

“I’m sorry.” I whisper to no one, but know who I wish to tell it to. “I’m so sorry.”


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15  
Somebody once said that you should tell everybody your secrets. You’re supposed to make it seem like a joke, so then you’re telling them but not really. It sounds so plausible and the best idea in the whole world. No one likes secrets. They tear at you, keep you awake at night, and sometimes can ruin you. If you tell them to everybody are they still secrets? If you’re joking around with everyone then are you really telling them?

Some secrets are sometimes too rough to even joke about. Some are way too intricate to tell everyone. They wouldn’t think you were kidding. They would think you would need help. Usually it’s best to keep secrets to yourself. Everything ends up so skewed if you tell even the smallest one. It’s so much easier to just pretend they’re not there. Ignore them until you go mad. 

Secrets are painful and they hurt people. Still, I think everyone is addicted to them. They go hand in hand with lies and every sane person loves to lie. It’s so easy and you’ve known how to since forever. 

Unfortunately, secrets are meant to be told. They are just waiting to be found out by people. Secrets are never kept as secrets. We all admit things over time. It’s the hardest part. Admittance is a struggling thing to put through your mind. But once you admit it, your world can go crashing down. Just sometimes, you can fix it. Pull your life back into place. You just wait for every secret to become undone and blow your life down. After a while you might just pick up a tolerance. 

I sit on the grand piano bench, playing songs at random. Alex goes along, singing to whatever I pick out, knowing them all. All it does is make me jealous. I wish I had a range like him. I wish for his life sometimes. After an array of genres, Alex goes over to the piano and I scoot over for him. He places his hands on the keys like they have found their lost home. He starts playing and I watch him play a song I know very well. It’s Cracked.

“You ever gonna play this live?” he asks, nodding his head to the nonexistent tempo. 

“You could.” I grant him permission. The song means a lot to me but Alex would do it justice. 

“No,” he replies instantly, his hands jumping off the keys. The song stops abruptly and I place my hands on the unoccupied keys and start from where he left off. “You know they wouldn’t care if we added a song.”

It’s true. “You know it’s risky to play a slow song.” 

“You know they like us. We have fans that would love it.” he tells me. Fans? I’m still one of those; I can’t have them, too. 

“You should,” Dallon says, walking over to the piano with his bass. “We would get a break.” he smiles, but he still sounds encouraging. 

“I guess…” I trail on, not completely sure if this is a good idea. 

“Great! Now play it so they can make sure it’s okay. I’ll go tell them the good news.” Alex smiles widely. Why is this good news? 

I don’t smile back, rather look down at the keys. It’s then that I realize I have to sing in front of everyone at soundcheck. Then, I have to sing to everyone in the audience. That’s so many people. I breathe in a sharp breath and try not to look scared. I start playing the opening and force myself to sing into the microphone that’s positioned by the piano. Thankfully, it’s not that loud. 

I close my eyes, try to pretend that I’m alone. Maybe back in the studio, still writing the remaining. I know it all, though. Know it measure by measure. My voice sounds shaky to even myself and I try to make it better. The song goes by faster than I expected and suddenly I am playing the last notes. That wasn’t that hard. 

“You playing it tonight?” Brendon’s voice makes me snap open my eyes. 

He looks better, no longer dampening everyone’s spirits with his sadness. I think I might have taken his role. I’m really trying not to let it show, though. Brendon finally told me about his sister, Ann. It wasn’t really how I expected. Instead of us cuddling and watching movies, he wouldn’t come near me and I think I know why. Part of the reason his whole family doesn’t like him is because of what he does with me. I don’t think he wants any reminders right now.

“Probably.” I say, abandoning the keys. “Everyone wants me to. Shouldn’t I?” 

“If you don’t want to you shouldn’t.” he says, giving the best advice. I think Brendon Urie might have been made to share little pieces of advice that mean so much. I’m jealous, for I have nothing inspirational to say. 

“I want to.” I lie, not daring to meet his eyes. 

I really don’t, though. A majority of the song is about my parents. I don’t think anyone knows that. I think Brendon may suspect it but he’s still not sure. Considering my parents’ recent announcement, the song seems even more cruel. I wrote it right after I told them to split. 

“If you say so.” Brendon mutters, not believing me. 

“It’s my song.” I say firmly. It still seems a little wavering to my ears. Maybe he didn’t notice. 

“Sorry.” he says quietly. “You’re right.” 

He walks away and I feel bad about our current relationship. Well, more with all of my current relationships. I’ve been cold to everyone since my parents told me. I’m trying to be happy but it’s like I’m forcing myself to be angry. If I forget it’s my fault, I won’t forgive myself. 

I stand up from the piano bench, soundcheck being done with for a while. I don’t think anyone was actually listening to my song but it will help me for tonight. I won’t be as nervous. Hopefully I won’t be the only one singing. 

I walk to the dressing room and sit on the couch. I fidget around and try to seem interested and perhaps happy. I think everyone can tell something happened. I’m usually quiet but lately I’ve kept my mouth shut unless necessary.

We’ve started doing signings after shows. People actually want to see us and want our autographs and want us in pictures. They are always screaming Alex’s name and mine. Only sometimes you hear a ‘Dallon’ or a ‘Spencer.’ They don’t mind, though. We are a team. There’s just an obvious love for us more. People just like me because I’m associated with Brendon. We’ve turned into a tag team of sorts. 

Alex walks into the green room, earbuds in ears. He’s nodding his head and mouthing the words. I look up at him and wait for him to notice my existence. When he finally does, while pulling a water-bottle out of the fridge, he instantly pulls an earbud and laughs at himself. 

“You scared the fuck out of me, Ryan.” he tells me, even though I could kind of already tell. 

I smile weakly. “Sorry.” 

“It’s cool.” he says, flopping down onto the same couch as me. He’s particularly close, which makes me nervous. “You seem kind of weird lately...what’s wrong?” his face is really close to mine, I observe. 

“Nothing,” I lie. “Just been tired lately.” I try a smile again but feel it fall off my lips before I’m even sure it’s there. I can’t help but to look at Alex’s lips. I compare them to Brendon’s. They’re so much thinner than his. They still look nice. Now, I’m just upset at myself because I have never thought of Alex in that way. No. He’s my best friend. 

“You sure…?” he says, obviously noticing my blatant staring. 

I breathe in sharply and look up at his eyes. He seems amused at my embarrassment that’s rippling through me. I just nod.

Alex keeps looking at me, still not believing it. I try to keep eye contact but fail, looking down to my fingers. “Stop lying to me.” Alex says, quietly. 

He brings his hand up to my cheek and brushes his calloused fingers over my face. I only flinch a little but my head is in a frenzy. I can see him, inch by inch, nearing me. His eyes ask me silently for permission and I can’t help but to grant it. He’s suddenly kissing me, closed mouth. It’s different from when I kiss Brendon. This doesn’t seem to have a romantic edge. This is strictly dirty and, at the moment, I’m okay with that. 

I automatically reach my hands out to his hips and find them quickly. Our kisses become more frantic and our mouths open. It’s not long before his tongue is in my mouth. Alex breaks the kiss, moving closer to straddle me. His lips meet mine again with the same amount of urgency as before. His hand finds its way to my hardening dick and cups it. I pull him closer, his hand pushing down even more. He runs his other hand through my hair and then he bites my lip slightly. I moan loudly because I didn’t see that coming. 

When I moan I realize what I’m doing. With my best friend. I pull back from him. “Alex.” I breathe, trying to convey my fears through his name. 

He must have understood because he was slowly removing himself from my lap. I pull my feet up to my chest, trying to hide the bulge in my pants. He’s my best friend and that was a bad idea. 

“I’m sorry, but you are not straight.” Alex says, sighing. 

“Thanks for clearing that up, Alex.” I say sarcastically. I slump into the couch. “We shouldn’t have done that.” 

“Is this why you’ve been acting weird? Who is it? It must be someone on tour?” he asks me quickly, ignoring my statement. I think he knows who it is. He can ask, though. 

“It’s not that.” I say quickly. 

“So there is something then!” he yells, pointing an accusing finger at me. 

I instantly look down to my knees, not wanting to think about my parents. “It’s really nothing.” I assure him, feeling my throat constrict. 

“I’m really only trying to help.” 

Images of us kissing and the feelings running through me pop into my head. “That didn’t help.” 

“It was just a kiss, it doesn't matter.” 

Brendon said almost the same thing after that party that seemed so long ago. It’s not that I think Alex and I will fall into some complicated friendship like Brendon and I, it just bothers me they say that. When had a kiss become so cheap and frivolous? In my head, they seemed so damn important. You don’t kiss your best friend. 

“So it’s nothing?” I ask, still feeling sick from this. 

“It won’t change anything.” he shrugs. “Well, expect I know you’re really awesome at that and I’m jealous of whoever he is.” 

I shoot him a look and we both laugh. It’s nice to laugh. My laugh even manages to convince him I’m okay, I think. I’m okay. 

I’m staring out the window in my bunk, watching the scenery change. My earbuds are in but nothing is playing. My playlist ended maybe a half an hour ago but I haven’t been bothered to put on something or take out my earbuds. I’m tired but I can’t sleep. I’m alive but I don’t feel like I am. I’m a walking zombie and this isn’t Earth. I disappear. Instead of acting out during difficult times, I go away to my own world where my thoughts are my only justifications. It’s a dangerous place for me to be.

I felt a little better after Alex and I talked but the feelings wore off quickly. I was kind of hoping I could take all of these feelings and make them into something. I could write a song or a short story or something, but nothing comes to mind. My words have become useless again. 

I feel a tapping on my shoulder and I roll around to a smiling Brendon. I finally pull out my earbuds. 

“We were going to watch a movie, you wanna join?” he asks. He looks like I have already declined the invitation. 

“Nah,” I disappoint him further. “Sorry, I wanna catch up on some sleep.” 

He looks worried. He has that same look on his face that Alex did. Why is everyone worried? Stop. No one’s ever been bothered to worry about me. “Okay. Night.” he says quickly, then closes my curtain for me.

I close my eyes and hope that maybe sleep will come. It doesn’t. I just keep regretting not going out to watch a movie. I’m back to being that kid again. I’m boring and I knew I couldn’t hide it for that long. It’s not fair, the way that they are all so interesting and confident. It’s so easy for me to block out the world and pretend like no one else exists. 

It’s not long before I hear my curtain opening. I roll over and feel another body close to me. “If you’re not going out, then I’m coming in.” Brendon says. 

I don’t mind it that much. I just have a feeling he’s going to ask what’s wrong. Something in my chest says I want to talk about it, though. Maybe if I say something about it, I will feel better. 

Brendon and I connect our bodies flawlessly. I feel whole again. It bothers me how happy Brendon makes me feel. He’s not mine. I tug at the front of his shirt. For now he is. 

“What’s wrong?” Brendon abruptly asks, my foretelling evidently correct. 

“Why do you think there’s something wrong?” 

“You don’t usually hide out...or this.” he says, his eyes flickering down to me. I’m squashed against his chest and usually it’s the other way around when we cuddle. I’ve never been an overly touchy person but I feel like my guard has melted a little. 

“Do you not like it?” I ask, curiosity nipping on my tongue. 

“Shhh.” Brendon pulls me in closer, if that is even possible. “I know something is up, Ry. You seem sad.” 

“I’m sorry.” I say, because it seems like an inconvenience for him. I really don’t mean to be sad. 

“I’m not asking for an apology, silly.” I hear him say. “I’m asking what’s wrong.” 

I want to tell him but I don’t. “You’ll just think I’m a baby.” I confess. It’s the same reason I didn’t talk to him when I first got told. That, and the whole Sarah situation was still driving me crazy. Still is.

“You’re not a baby.” he says, moving his hand to my hair. He idly plays with the strands the same way I did last time he was in my bunk. 

“It’s really nothing...it’s just my mom called me.” I start but I want to stop. I force myself to keep going. “She just, well, she told me that she and my dad are getting divorced. That’s really it.” When I say it out loud, a part of me dies. My parents are getting a divorce. All because of me. I feel like getting sick and crying all at the same time. I just manage to close my eyes into Brendon’s chest and breathe him in. I love the way he smells. Distractions, that’s what I need.

“Ryan,” Brendon says, suddenly panicked. I keep my eyes tightly shut, not wanting to see his face. God, look at Ryan, the kid who just can’t keep it together. “I am so sorry. Why didn’t you tell me? Of all things.” he sounds angry and everything about this surprises me. 

“I’m sorry.” I say again into his shirt. I feel hot tears build up behind my closed eyes. Great, I’m going to cry into his shirt. 

“You aren’t a baby. Please don’t think that. When my parents split I was such a fucking mess. So much worse than you. You don’t have to act brave for me.” 

I finally break down and essentially start sobbing. He wraps his arms around me and I do the same to him. I would have never thought he would react this way. I just assumed I was being so childish about this whole situation. I can’t ask for more from Brendon. He’s become something more perfect than anyone else I’ve ever known.

“It was because of me, Brendon.” I cry out. “I literally told my parents to get a divorce and now I’m the one angry at it.” 

“It’s not your fault.” Brendon says sternly. “No matter what, this is not your fault.”

“Yes it is.” I shake my head, rubbing against the fabrics of Brendon’s shirt.

“It’s okay, Ry.” he says softly, his hand rubbing small circles on my back. “Everything gets better, I swear.” 

“But shouldn’t it be already?” I say, trying to talk with my suddenly shortened air supply. “I’m living my dream.” I remember Pete’s words. Him telling me that I was ungrateful for my life. Here I am, being given that perfect dream, then acting like a moody little kid. 

 

“That doesn’t mean everything’s going to be perfect.” 

Why can’t it be? When I was younger I always assumed that this life was perfect. I wanted to be perfect. I played guitar to be the best. To be perfect. It all feels like lies. Did my dad really want me to learn guitar? Did my mom get angry at him for spending too much time teaching me? Were they even happy then? 

I start getting progressively worse as the memories come to mind. I try to hug Brendon even more. “Make them stop.” I whine. 

“What?” Brendon asks, sounding so worried. 

“The memories.” I choke out. I keep seeing these happy moments from my childhood. I remember my parents being so happy. Everything seems tainted now. Their smiles have been painted over with looks of disapproval. 

“Ryan, hey, stop.” he whispers. He moves my body up so I’m sharing a pillow with him. I’m suddenly not against his chest. Rather, I’m staring into his eyes and I feel like I’ve done something wrong. “We can make new memories. Better ones.” 

I bring my hands to my face, trying to hide the imperfections playing out onto it. “Memories with the boy I can’t have.” I blurt out. I didn’t mean to and I really don’t want to see his face. I’m a coward who can admit things only by accident. 

It’s true, though. He has Sarah. I just can’t stand this weird friendship Brendon and I have. I want him. It’s something that I’m sure of. I’ve just now realized it but it makes so much sense. He’s what I need. 

Brendon doesn't reply right away. He just sighs, which worries me. “Ryan.” he whispers and I just feel pathetic. I put myself on a line and now I’m falling. “I-I didn’t think…” 

“It’s okay.” I shut my eyes. More tears. “It’s nothing.” 

I hear him sigh again. We both know it’s not nothing. It’s something. Two people can’t be friends if one of them just really fucking likes the other one. I can’t pretend not to notice anymore. 

“I’m sorry.” Brendon speaks up again, his voice void of emotion. 

“No. No, don’t be sorry. Sarah and you are happy.” 

He doesn’t reply. He also doesn’t get out of my bunk, which I expected he would do. I obviously want him to stay. I need him to stay. It might be slightly awkward but I can’t be alone right now. Brendon’s become my anchor and I need him to stay together. I don’t want to fall apart.


	16. Chapter 16

It’s only when I wake up mid-afternoon to find that I’m clutching onto a pillow, instead of Brendon, that I realize how much I have messed up. I never vocalize my feelings. I keep them in my head unless I’m writing a song. Even then, I hide them in mysterious wording. No one ever knows how I feel but now Brendon does. Maybe he did know all along. I made it pretty obvious. 

I let go of my death grip on the pillow and sigh loudly. I find my phone in the depths of my blanket and realize it won’t be long before I have to get up and socialize and be a normal person. I feel like I was injured and I just woke up in my hospital bed. Words can’t put you in a hospital unless it’s a mental one. I’ve been to one of those but only in my mind. 

I slowly get out of my bunk and get my travel backpack. Thankfully, everyone seems gone. I hide in the bathroom and change into yesterday’s jeans. You can tell I cried last night. My eyes look red and rimmed with sadness. I try to smile in hopes everything will erase. No such luck. 

My giant suitcase, with all my clothes in it, is still on the July Poem’s bus. Once I’ve fixed my hair to a public-worthy style, I make my way over to that bus. No one’s in the lounge on my way out and I’m glad I didn’t have to see Brendon. I’m already awkward enough. 

The weather outside is colder than what I’m used to. The sky’s a solemn gray color that fits my general consensus on the day ahead of me. We’re in downtown Chicago right now. Our buses are parked in the venue’s large parking lots. I knock on my old tour bus and just walk in not waiting for someone to open it. I still have rights to go in there. As assumed, everyone is on the couches minus Jack, who must be off with Established Heroes. 

“Ryan!” Spencer says, from the couch. “Still alive, I see!” 

“Barely hanging on.” I say as a joke but can feel the truth bleeding into it. Alex is the only one who doesn’t laugh. 

“Ready for the party tonight?” Spencer asks, real intention entwined in his words. 

“Not really.” I say. “I was wondering if I could have the key to get my suitcase out?” 

“I’ll come with you!” Alex jumps up from the couch and grabs a key from the counter. 

I drop my backpack on the ground of the bus and walk outside with him. I notice the way Alex shuts the door. It makes me nervous. We walk to the hatch on the side of the bus and he’s slow to use the key. 

“You’re not looking any better.” he says, still sounding worried. “Is it someone from Established Heroes?” 

“No.” I’m quick to answer. It probably looks suspicious. Technically, Brendon wasn’t the initial reason I was freaking out. He’s just combined to it. 

“Ry…” Stop sounding worried. 

“Why do you care?” I beg for an answer. No one ever cares about me. I like it that way. Always have. 

“Because I’m your friend.” Alex stops opening the hatch and turns sideways to look at me. “You look like you’ve been crying.” 

I instantly move my head downwards. “No, I haven’t.” I yell, accusingly. He can tell, I know. “It’s just my parents are getting a divorce and I’ve been taking it badly.” 

I watch as Alex’s eyes widen. “What? Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“It’s not that important.” I look back down at my feet and fiddle with the sleeves on my sweatshirt. It might be for me but not so much for him. 

“No!” I hear Alex say. “Ryan, are you okay?” 

I refuse to look up at him. I just nod and snatch the key from his grip. I open the hatch quickly and start taking out my suitcase. 

“You know, I’m here, if you want to talk.” he says. 

I mutter a thanks and unzip my bag. I find a nice pair of gray pants that match a jacket and a white collared shirt with interesting detailing on the front. It’s not one of my better outfits but I’ve yet to go shopping for my newly acquired fashion sense. 

I put everything else away and hand him back the key. I look him briefly in the eye, but kind of wish I hadn't. It’s like he’s reading me. According to drunk Brendon, I am fairly easy to read. I give him one of my trademark weak smiles then stride away from him. I enter the bus to the same scene as last time. 

“Do you guys have any hairspray?” I ask, preparing for my night out long before anyone else. 

“I do.” a voice behind me says. I turn around to see Alex smiling happily. So, maybe he does want to help. 

 

The party really isn’t anything as expected. We’re all underaged, except for Patrick, but the staff granted use of the open bar before the night even begins. It’s conspicuous but they all know. We’re told to be careful if any press come in. I don’t drink anything. I want my mind to be clear right now. I have a feeling if I start, I won’t stop. 

I think everyone wants to meet me here, too. Really, they want to talk to Brendon and me. All these unfamiliar faces are calling out my name and slinging an arm on my shoulder. They smile at me like I’ve won the world and they want a piece. I put on my best behavior, happy face because that’s what they want. I can’t be charming on cue like Brendon, but I can be well behaved. 

Needless to say, it’s awkward between Brendon and me. We didn’t talk by ourselves before the random faces whisked us away into their faux conversions. Everyone smiles at us like we’re a team, though. Almost like we’re a couple and it bugs me relentlessly. Brendon doesn’t seem the slightest annoyed by anyone. 

I’ll never stop being jealous of him. He talks to people with such a natural elegance. It might be from years of practice but I think he has always been good at that. He laughs at all the unfunny jokes like the people saying them are comedians with a smile happier than ever. He just fits into this lifestyle so well. 

“So much talent in California.” one man buzzes, giving Brendon and me business cards. “Did you move out there to get signed?” he directs this question at me.

“No,” I shake my head. “I was born there.” 

“Ah, so you just got lucky.” he winks at me. He must be in his late twenties. Maybe he wanted to be a musician when he was younger. Doesn't everybody? Even my dad wanted a piece of that dream. I try to hide the cringe on my face when he says it. 

If it was any other day, I probably would have given Brendon one of those ‘I guess I did get lucky’ smiles. Not today. I don’t even bother looking his way, I just nod my head. 

“You two are some team, though.” he remarks. “The press loves you!” 

“Thanks!” Brendon says smoothly, his voice not even catching. The first few times people have made similar observations, Brendon seemed weary to answer. It felt like suddenly we weren’t a team but we still had to pretend. There is a dull beating in my head that wants alcohol to forget what I’ve said. 

“Hey, don’t mention it.” he yells, throwing his hand in the air. Brendon laughs, I smile, and the man departs. 

“He spit on me.” Brendon says quietly, wiping his face. This time I actually laugh because he looks thoroughly disgusted. He’s made all these little comments after every person leaves. I have just smiled but this one’s the best. 

“Who knows what’s been in his mouth.” Brendon shakes his head. He’s still got a smile on, though.

Before we even have time to separate, another person comes up to us. She looks like the typical socialite here. Short dress, big breasts, happy smiles and some girly looking drink in her dainty fingers. She’s not the first type to talk to us, and she won’t be the last. “Boys!” she screams like she knows us. 

“Hey.” Brendon and I say at the same time. 

“Oh my god!” she squeals, obviously a little tipsy. “Did you hear that? Same timing!” We just nod our heads and try to look amused. “How’s the party treating yah?” 

“Good, everyone’s real great tonight.” Brendon says, the same thing he said to the last five people. 

The girl’s jaw instantly drops and she brings a sloppy finger to Brendon’s lips. “Shh!” she yells. “How is the party really treating you?” she almost sounds seductive when she says it, like Brendon is going to tell her everything. I can feel the tension set in. 

“Like I said,” Brendon mutters awkwardly, moving away from the stranger’s finger. “Great.” he obviously sounds annoyed. 

“You two are so cute!” she says now. She takes her hand away from Brendon and ruffles my hair. “Are you two always this matched or…?” 

I look down at my clothes then to Brendon. Undoubtedly, he is wearing a jacket almost identical to mine and they’re both buttoned in the middle. I guess I didn’t notice when we walked in. “We try our best.” I smile. 

“Oh, this one time I went on vacation to…” she seems to have forgotten. “Who the fuck cares where! Anyways, there were these two gay guys and oh my god! They were adorable like you guys.” 

Brendon’s face goes red and loses his charm. “We aren’t gay.” he says seriously. I stand there awkwardly, feeling no need to chime in anything. 

“Boo!” she says, giving us a thumbs down. “I could see it.” 

“It was nice meeting you.” Brendon says coldly, then leaves me alone. 

“Same.” I mumble then walk away, not sure where to go. 

No one pounces on me, obviously noticing the look on my face. I could see it. It feels like a punch in the gut. I did too for a while. Now, it’s blurred and skewed. I spot Alex and Spencer at the bar and Alex is stirring his straw through his drink, looking bored. 

“Hey.” I say, sitting in the stool next to him. 

They both mumble out hello’s. “Having fun?” Spencer asks. 

“Not really.” I answer truthfully. I’m sure they could tell by my facial expressions. “Do you want some business cards?” I pull out a wad of cards and throw them like confetti at Alex and Spencer. 

“Thanks, fucker.” Alex laughs, pushing the cards away from him. “I think you’re supposed to keep those and not throw them.” 

“They’re no use for me.” I say. 

Alex seems to have lightened up about my mood. I think he knows I’m forcing happiness for all the people I have talked to tonight. But he knows I don’t need to fake anything for him. I’m not really unhappy anymore, just even more reserved as usual. 

“How was everyone?” Spencer asks. I feel bad because everyone just wants to talk to me. No one is interested in the rest of July Poems. 

“One girl said Brendon and I were matching and then called us gay.” I say bluntly, chuckling at the event. When it happened it was extremely strange, now it’s funny. I quickly grab at Alex’s drink on the counter and take a large gulp. 

“Thirsty?” Spencer asks, laughing. 

“I can’t imagine what they would say about me.” Alex muses.

I give him a questioning look but I get distracted by my phone ringing. It’s my mom. I double take the screen, really hoping that it wasn’t her. No such luck. I decide quickly that anything is better than going back to making my rounds around the room again with Brendon. I point towards the door and mouth ‘Mom’ to Alex and Spencer who look confused. I hurry to step out into the cold winds to answer my phone. 

“Hello.” I say dryly. 

“Ryan!” I hear my mom say excitedly. I have been ignoring her daily calls until now. “How-How’s the tours been?” Same question as last time.

“Fine.” I say, my words frozen. I just keep thinking back to Brendon and me. I shouldn’t have told him. Now he just looks at me with pity in his eyes. I don’t think it’s just my parents’ relationship status that he feels bad about but perhaps my own. 

“Whatchya up to?” she has the same forced-happiness strained into her words, very much like my own.   
“Nothing important.” 

She just sighs and I bite my lip, wanting to apologize. It’s my fault she’s so sad and her marriage has fallen apart. I’m dying to open my mouth and tell her what I’m sure she wants to hear. Humans rarely get to hear what they want, so I keep my thoughts to myself. 

I wonder if she’s worried about me at all. I wonder if she thinks to herself ‘Is Ryan okay with this?’ I have a feeling she doesn’t. I’m gone from her life. I will be back soon, but for now she doesn’t have to worry about me. I only now realize how alone I am. Essentially, I am an adult now. 

I lean against the brick wall outside the party. The wind is burning in my lungs and I feel sick to my stomach. I can taste the recently swallowed alcohol in my mouth. People are passing by quickly and I don’t bother to look at their faces. There is so many people in this world and it’s crazy how just a few can affect you. 

“Ryan,” my mom begins, sounding sad. “Do you want to talk about...this?”   
I clench my jaw. We never talk. She must know I’m going to say no. She’ll offer her hallow words, but I won’t accept them. I have my own that devour my brain on a daily basis. I don’t need someone else’s dancing with mine. 

“Why did you call me?” I ask, frustrated. I could be at a party trying to enjoy myself. 

“Your father and I have been going through some things and have some disagreements. We were just wondering where you were planning to stay.” 

“What?” 

“Your father,” I cringe when she says it again. Your father. It sounds mad on her tongue. “Well, he’s moving out. Were you planning to stay with me or him?” 

I instantly think back to Brendon telling me about how he stayed with his dad. I’m sure my mom already knew who I was staying with. Did my dad expect me to stay with him? Was our relationship stronger or something? I have never been close to my parents. We never have heartfelt moments and knowing smiles. We’re just strangers that sleep in the same house and hope that when the morning comes we’re all still there in one piece.   
“You already know.” I mutter, giving her the satisfaction. She knows I wouldn’t want to live with my dad.  
“You don’t have to be this way.” she sighs. 

“What way?” I yell out, the people passing by look slightly offended that I’m yelling on the street, because, you know, no one ever yells on these goddamn streets. 

“Do you honestly think I want this either?” she doesn’t bother yelling. Her voice sounds worn out. It brings back strange memories from when I was younger. She used to work even more then. 

“I guess you should have thought about that when you filed for a divorce.” I tell her cruelly. I want to take it back the second the words jump from my tongue. 

There is a silence on the other end for a few seconds. “I didn’t want to waste all these years on a failed relationship. I thought things that weren’t true.” 

“Wasted years?” I repeat. “I was there. My whole life is in those ‘wasted years.’ What the fuck am I then?” 

“That’s not what I meant and you know that!” 

“Why does everyone think I know everything?” I think aloud.

“You never listen.” she muses. She sighs loudly, it’s harsh in my ear.

I have the urge to hang up on my mom like last time. I don’t feel like it. I owe her something. Maybe a bitter goodbye can companion my loss of existence in her book. 

“I wanna live with Dad.” I blurt out. 

“Ryan, I didn't mean what I said-”

“Bye Mom.” 

I instantly hang up and shove the phone into my pocket, powering it down quickly. I don’t want a call from her. Ever again. I also don’t want to live with my dad. We can both live in isolated exile from each other and the world. We’ve done it for a while now, just our paths keep crossing in unflattering ways. 

I slowly breathe in and then exhale. It’s damn cold out here. I quickly let myself back into the party, the bouncer noticing who I am right away. I search for the bathrooms, feeling my eyes get watery. Crying in public is not an option. Hell, crying in general is not an option. 

I open the door, and make eye contact with the last person I want to make eye contact with. Brendon finishes washing his hands and walks over to me quickly. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks. Maybe he can read me. I’m no Shakespeare, I’m a pathetic children’s book with idiotic misprints. 

“Nothing.” I say instantly, as if trained. 

I sidestep from Brendon but he grabs on to my shoulder. “Seriously.” he’s staring into my eyes. What page of my book is he on? “Is it your parents?” 

“Why do you care?” I snap, him obviously striking the wrong nerve. I asked the same to Alex just today. Why do they? I’m just me, the kid no one wants to talk to or care about. The thing is, someone has finally come around but I can’t accept their offers. I’ve practice in the art of ignoring good things for too long.

I try to pull away from him but realize he has a death grip on me. The two men in the bathroom are eyeing us curiously. They must know who we are. We’re the main attraction at this party. Well, extra-extra, one of us is falling apart so grab your pens and take notes. 

“Because I really fucking like you and I’m trying to help.” he barely whispers. I watch the two men leave the bathroom and long to be one of them. 

I feel my eyes get watery again and my self-loathing is taken to a whole new level. “Well, you shouldn’t.” 

I find myself getting enveloped into a hug and I can feel Brendon wrap his skinny arms around my thin waist. We’re quite a team, but that’s all we are. Brendon puts his chin on my shoulder and I only feel worse in his embrace. It’s the first time I’ve ever thought something like that. 

“I’ve been thinking.” I hear Brendon mumble. “I’m gonna break up with Sarah.” 

I feel this awful blossoming in my stomach. I don’t want all this hope. “Okay.” I whisper. Him breaking up with Sarah has nothing to do with me. He has a clear conscience. Congrats, Bren. 

“Since that’ll be over with...” he trails on, but reconnects his sentence quickly. “We could actually get together.”   
The second he says it, I push out of the hug. Since Brendon wasn’t expecting it, I am free from his grasp. “No! No. I don’t-I don’t want your pity!” 

Brendon looks completely shocked. “This isn’t pity!” he yells. “I’ve spent tonight regretting what I did to you. I mean, you told me how you felt and I. I just ignored you even though I felt the same way and I feel like shit about that.” 

It only makes sense for me to be happy. I should be hugging Brendon and maybe even giving him a quick kiss. I should be doing something I know I shouldn’t because I can. I don’t, though. I’m a scared mess that can’t make up its own mind. I practically run out of the bathroom and find Alex still at the bar. Him and Jack seem to be having a fun conversation and I feel bad for ruining it. 

“Alex, can we leave?” I ask because we are sharing a hotel room tonight. I’m sure I look pathetic. I’m still on the brink of tears, my own fears multiplying in my head. “Please.” I add. 

“Yeah, sure.” Alex jumps up and says goodbye to Jack with a meaningful eye look. It says more than his words can. It makes me wonder about the two of them. Only for a few seconds, though. 

As I walk out the doors I feel like I should go back. I should just agree with Brendon, but I can’t. A relationship is so complicated. I always screw those up. I wanted it so badly and I can’t even accept it when I get it. 

As Alex hails a taxi I try to think of good things. We have the day off tomorrow. Maybe I can spend all day in my bed. My brain still connects Brendon as a good thing and I wander back to him. 

I feel like I’m showing everything. I can feel my mistakes embroidered into my skin. I can feel my thoughts being shouted out without my consent. I can also hear the wind, that feels as though it’s screaming into my ears. We’re all begging for silence sometimes.


	17. Chapter 17

The morning after the party comes faster than I wanted it to. I wake up early, Alex still drowning in sheets and blankets. I don’t actually get up, though. I simply stay in bed and wait for someone to come wake us up. Today is technically our day off but I keep hoping someone will wake us up. I’d rather be going to an interview or working on a song or doing something than lying here while my thoughts puddle around me. 

Last night, Alex didn’t ask about why I was on the brink of tears on and off during the cab ride. He didn’t question the small snuffles I made from my side of the room before he fell asleep. He still seemed sympathetic, though. I guess I could have gone to the hotel by myself, but I’m not sure if I would have made it. His presence was nice, though. I felt better knowing I had someone.

There’s this agonizing voice in my head that says to go find Brendon. I could text him if I just got my phone out of the bottom of my suitcase from last night. I just don’t believe him. There’s no way he actually likes me. The thing is, I want people to like me and then I don’t. I always want to be accepted with people, but I don’t want people too close to me. They figure out how awful I am. I don’t want Brendon to risk his heart for me. I’m just Ryan. I’ve been living with myself forever and I wish I wasn’t. I know my flaws and I don’t want Brendon to see them all. 

I especially don’t want him to give up his somewhat stable relationship with Sarah. I know that they are happy; I’ve seen it. I don’t want to be the one that ruins the good for bad. I just need to stop thinking about this. 

My fingers itch to play an instrument. Recently, I have been picking up bass. There’s always monotonous amounts of waiting around, so Dallon has started showing me how to on his own bass. A piano would be great right now, too. I bet they have one in the lobby. This is a classy hotel. No one is probably around it or playing it. I could easily sneak down there and try to write something. I doubt anyone from my band or Established Heroes is up, either. 

Just as I think it, a loud knock rings through the hotel room. I snatch the opportunity up, departing my bed quickly and walking to the door. I don’t bother messing with my appearance, which I am always self-conscious about when I wake up. I probably look ridiculous in just my boxers and an old gym shirt. I open the door to a solemn looking Brendon. His hair is tousled and he’s wearing his red glasses that I really like on him. In all, it makes it harder to say no to the offer that spills from his mouth. 

“Did I wake you up?” he asks, before any form of greeting can be exchanged. 

I shake my head sleepily, probably making it look like I’m lying. “I’ve been awake.” 

Brendon simply nods. “Do you want to go get breakfast? They serve it somewhere in here.” 

I stare at him for a few seconds, trying to decipher if this is a good sign or bad. When I look at him it’s like he’s happy and sad. Hopeful but dreary. I just don’t want to go and have him lure me into a nice comfy relationship that I will screw up very quickly. 

I decide to ignore my thoughts for once.

“Sure, one sec.” I say, awkwardly shutting the door on Brendon. 

I look over at Alex who is still fast asleep and don’t bother waking him or leaving a note. I quickly put on a pair of jeans and a clean shirt with a jacket I find in a ball on the table. 

Sure enough, Brendon is in the hallway when I return. We silently walk to where we’ve been directed the breakfast room is. We’re up early enough to where it is actually open, whereas every other occasion at hotels, we all wake up at noon and miss it. We both stock up on food and make our way to a small table meant for two in the corner. 

“So, what’s up?” I ask, trying not to remember last night. If we both pretend it didn’t happen, then did it? 

“Well,” he begins, his face brightening instantly. “My sister called me this morning. She told me that the tumor is benign!” I can’t help but to love the smile that’s on his lips. He looks so happy. 

“That’s great, Brendon.” I say, sounding like some authority figure. I just want to be his friend but I’m not even sure how to do that anymore. We’re not friends anymore, but we’re not strangers, and we’re not lovers so I have no idea what we are. 

“I feel like I can finally breathe on this tour again.” he tells me. I only smile at him and pick at the muffin I placed on my plate, not really feeling hungry anymore. “It got me thinking, though. I realized that she could have died because of that. I mean, like, the thought was always brooding in my head, but I never really thought about it, you know? And then I got scared because I realized how easy it is for people to die. This is probably a weird segue, but I really wasn’t pitying you last night.”

I already don’t like the turn this conversation has taken. I knew we were going to talk about this the second he brought up breakfast. He seems so nonchalant about everything, too. He seems like I didn’t completely reject him last night. I wish I had his recovery time. I know I can’t lie to him about anything. I didn’t waste all morning thinking about what had happened last night for nothing. “I think I was kind of selfish last night. I just kind of assumed you felt bad for me.” I admit, but not to his eyes, rather the muffin in front of me. 

“To be completely honest, your sadness probably did affect my judgment a little. It’s just, I like Sarah but I like you better. It was really starting to annoy me, the way that I knew I’d rather spend time with you than her. When she came to the first concert I knew what I needed to do. It’s just...I think my parents were, like, proud of me. I was with Sarah, a female, and she had a good family.” he smiles shyly at me.

“We are a pretty good family.” I shrug, going red from his comments. He’s always sweet in his confessions. I still feel weird because I am exactly what he doesn’t need. 

“Then she came back for those couple of shows and my family stuff happened and she was always good at talking but I felt like I couldn’t tell her anything anymore. When I did, I felt like I was ruining our trust, which I know makes no sense, but I don’t know.”

“I guess I kind of know what you’re talking about.” I say, but I don’t really get it that well. I know I like it, though. I know I love the fact that we have trust. I knew we had it, but he said it and it feels more real now.

“Yeah.” he’s smiling, like he’s amazed I understand everything. “I did break up with her, though. After the party I called her. She assumed I was cheating on her.” 

“Oh.” I say. This is my cue to feel bad. I know I should be worried because he was cheating with me. Was it really cheating, though? “Brendon,” I clear my throat. If I don’t tell him what I’ve been thinking about now, then I never will. “Last night I was, well, uh, I was scared. Every relationship I get into I mess up. It seemed even worse because I realized that this isn’t with a girl, but a guy. I’m not trying to offend you or anything, it’s just, for someone who thought they were straight all their life to have everything come crashing down because of one person isn’t exactly a pleasure.” 

“I know how you feel.” he mutters, bitterly. “Felt the same with William. Now it’s like, hell, I don’t want my parents to be in the way of what I want. You’re kind of what I want, Ryan.” 

We both share happy smiles and it’s wrong how I want this to click back into place. I want to not be awkward around him anymore. Most of all, I want to kiss him. That’s like the universal sign for ‘things are going to get better, I promise.’ I look around and realize there are workers and some stray families here with us. Brendon must notice the displeasing look I make because he scoots his chair closer to mine and grabs at my hand from under the table. It’s such a small gesture but I freak out inside, entwining my fingers with his. 

“Shit!” Brendon says loudly, the people in the room with kids giving him dirty looks. “I never asked what was wrong last night.” 

I stare at him and really wish he wouldn’t have brought it up. “Oh,” I begin, trying not to seem too affected. “My mom called and asked where I wanted to live and I said her house, but then she said something so I said I wanted to live with my dad. Brendon, fuck, I really don’t want to live with my dad.” I say quickly, trying to get it out. 

“Why don’t you just apologize to your mom and stay there?” 

“You make it sound so easy.” I whine. 

“I’ve got something to make you feel better.” 

“And that is?”

“Well, I’ve never, like, properly asked someone out before...but do you want to do something today? I mean, we are in Chicago. I’ve been here quite a few times on tour, but we rarely get to see the city. I know it’s nice, though. Duh! Obviously since people adore the place.” 

I give his hand a squeeze. “Brendon you’re rambling.” I laugh. “We should.” 

“Okay, well, I’m kind of a dork who actually might have planned for the day.” 

“Am I allowed to come?” Alex suddenly appears, a bagel in his hands. He sits across from Brendon and me, eyeing us suspiciously. I instantly let go of Brendon’s hand, my reassurance slipping away. I don’t think Alex noticed our hands but he probably noticed our disappointment. “I mean, I was stoked for this breakfast invitation.” he says sarcastically. 

“Sorry, you were fast asleep when I left.” 

“Hm,” Alex nods, running a hand through his messy locks. “You’re rooming with Jack, right?” he directs this towards Brendon. 

“Yeah, room 214. Wake the bastard up for me, will you?” Brendon grins and winks, then stands up. He motions for me to come along. 

“Good luck, Alex.” I shout, running after Brendon. 

Once I catch up, Brendon pulls up the hood on his jacket. We emerge into the busy streets, our hotel being in the middle of busy streets and even busier people. It’s a little colder than it was last night. It doesn’t feel like fall but it is. Brendon and I walk close, our hands brushing occasionally. I smile like a spoiled ten year old whenever it happens. 

“What do your plans consist of us, Bren?” 

“It’s a surprise!” Brendon says happily. God, everything seems really great right now. Nothing could ever go wrong. I think it’s strange how easily we have stitched up our relationship. It wasn’t exactly broken, just suspended over a busy city. “Now hurry, I don’t want the press to find out we are walking around.” 

We press further, Brendon leading me. He checks his phone occasionally, probably making sure we’re going in the right direction. I’ve been to Chicago only once in my life. It was a short, and one of the only, vacations I’ve gone to with my family. We spent the day with some of their friends from work, not really being able to venture through the vast maze of streets. 

It was freeing, being here with Brendon. I feel almost like I deserve to be here. Last time, I felt like just another kid in a big city. It’s different now. People love Brendon and me. Brendon saved me from obscurity, I repay him with friendship. Fans eat that stuff up. 

It’s not long before someone notices us, more or less Brendon, and demands a picture. I’ve gotten used to the whole fan thing. I stand in front of the camera, they take my picture. It’s not much work but there’s something about it that I don’t really enjoy. I feel like the people who genuinely know of me and like me is a fallacy. I just hope I don’t disappoint them too much. 

Brendon and I keep going until we are in front of a large building; I look around for a sign but there are only street numbers. We go inside and I am still waiting to be surprised. Brendon’s being adorable, turning his head to look at me every few steps, a smile flickering on his lips each time. The things I’d do if we weren’t in public. 

“Wait here.” Brendon says sternly, giving me those big brown, puppy-dog eyes. I can do nothing but comply. 

I watch him go up to a desk and I get distracted looking around. There aren’t that many people here, but they seem dressed up. I get slightly self-conscious in my jeans and old jacket. Brendon hurries back, two tickets in his hand. I try to snatch one, but he holds them behind his back. 

“You never have patience.” he says, a devilish grin on his face. 

I just shrug and Brendon leads me to a set of double doors. He hands the bouncer his tickets and we walk in. There are hundreds of seats and a stage all the way in the back. Suddenly, I’m brought back to band class. 

“Did you take me to a symphony?” I say, looking at all the metal stands lined up at each chair. 

“I just kind of assumed maybe you would like it. I mean, you like music and you’re in band so...yeah.” Brendon ends eloquently, but nervously. He bites his lip. I think it’s cute the way he’s nervous about this all. 

“It’s perfect.” I say, my hand aching to hold his. “You’re a lot more creative than I would have been.” 

“Don’t get too excited. This is the extent of my planning.” he says, modestly. 

He leads us to our seats, which are closer to the front. We sit down in one of the maroon seats that are everywhere. I look over at Brendon who seems transfixed on the stage. 

“I think if I wouldn't have gotten famous in the band, I would have wanted to be in a symphony. Be part of the percussion or maybe pick up a string instrument. I could see myself breathing classical music instead of my own.” he says, not breaking his sight from the stage, his eyes bouncing from seat to seat. 

“Don’t you know how to play the cello?” I ask, without thinking about what I was about to say. 

Brendon finally looks at me, cocking his head. “I think you know more about me than my parents, sometimes.” 

“Never underestimate a fan’s knowledge.” 

“Maybe I should read all of your interviews so we can be even.” 

“I don’t think you’ll learn anything you don’t already know.” 

Brendon just tuts and leans back into his seat, his eyes instantly finding the stage in no time. “Weird to be on this side.” 

“Not for me.” I shrug, I have been to my fair share of concerts. I’m sure Brendon has been to a lot as well, I just feel more comfortable on this side. It might just be the fact he has performed more than gone to concerts. “You go to a lot of concerts, you know, beside your own?” 

“Not really.” he shrugs. “I didn’t get to when I was younger, either. I love them, though.” 

The lights dim, our conversation doing the same. A flash of black and white mob the stage and everyone places their music on the stands. I watch as a mad looking conductor walks onto the stage, not bothering to look at the audience. He starts tuning and everyone in the audience is dead silent.   
Brendon shuffles closer to me and grabs my hand the same way he did this morning. It feels just as secretive. I have been asking for this life for the longest time and now that I have it I sort of wish it would disappear. If Brendon and I weren’t famous we could be more open about this. Sure, we might get bashed because we’re in public but who would care at that point? We can’t do anything now. There’s already a slew of rumors about us. Just us walking close will set off alarms in the most rampant fans. 

The conductor now goes behind his podium. I’ve been in band long enough to know what he’s doing. Probably making one last reminder and doing those ‘I’m nervous but confident’ smiles. I watch him draw his hands to the air, his arms reminding me of a bird opening its wings triumphantly. I feel Brendon squeeze my hand, obvious excitement running through him to me. A few barely-there counts with the baton, and the band is off into their first song. 

As I feel Brendon tap the tempo with his thumb I feel alive. I feel like there is something that’s there for me to hold onto. I finally feel like somebody finally needs me just as much as I need them. There’s something soothing in the way I can count on things like that. I feel myself fall into a trance I hope to never wake up from. 

 

“Who’s supposed to pay on a gay date, anyway?” I ask, laughing. 

Brendon does the same, us giggling like two-year olds with no worries. I think the waiter is worried about us. I really wouldn’t be surprised if she spit in our food. “I’m not sure.” he muses. “It looks like I’ll have to pay.” 

“Fine with me.” I smile mischievously.

“Glad to serve you.” Brendon says, his eyes gleaming wickedly at me. 

I lean back in the booth and throw a napkin on the remains of my food. “You know, tonight is the second to last show of the tour, Brendon.” 

“Yikes.” he widens his eyes. “Studio time soon, I guess.” 

“Are you guys writing a lot?” I ask. I do remember them playing little chunks of songs in front of me, but I didn’t think they had enough for a whole album. 

“Kind of.” he shrugs and I know to drop the conversation. “How much high school do you have left again?” 

“Too much.” I sigh. 

I guess we have already let these poisonous thoughts invade our daydream we have here. After this tour we know that we will see very little of each other. He’ll be preparing for the studio, then he’ll go to the studio, then he’ll tour. I’ll be at school. Probably until summer. We are already planning our summer tour, complete with a list of festivals. 

“Can we just drown in ignorance for a while, Bren?” I ask. 

“I think we always are.” he grins, though I can see it. I can see the sadness stinging on his face. I wish I could wipe it clean. He deserves to be happy. Always has been. 

“We should probably get going. Soundcheck soon.” I mumble. 

We leave the restaurant and find ourselves in the darkened streets of Chicago. I watch as Brendon eyes my hand; it flickers away when a group of people walk past us. 

“I say next time we have a date it’s someplace with just us.” I smile wide, which I usually don’t. I really hope he isn’t offended. “Not that this wasn’t perfect, Bren. Like, you picked a great symphony. I’ve been humming the last piece all night.” I ramble.   
“Me too.” he says, not bothering my comment. 

We walk in silence back to the hotel. Brendon seems to remember from the walk here. I stay close to him. A few fans stop us, but our exchanges are short because it’s too cold to cater to every fan’s last will and testament. When we get closer to the hotel I watch Brendon look around then grab my wrist and we dash down an empty alley. It’s kind of dark, but I can still make out Brendon looking like the happiest person alive. He looks almost proud of me. 

“So, did I do okay then?” Brendon says, placing his hands effortlessly on my waist and pulling me closer. 

“Perfect.” I tell him because it really was. Everything he does is perfect. He’s what I’ve always wanted to be. 

I watch as he cups my face with his soft hands and he kisses me. I oblige, kissing back. It’s not like our dirty kisses, rather this has pure intentions. This kind of kiss doesn’t lead to anything. I’m completely content with it. 

When we break apart for air, Brendon says, “We need to get back.” 

I kiss his cheek slowly and we untangle ourselves. I’m sad about it but there’s always the future. 

When we’re back to the hotel we are shuttled straight to the venue. I sit next to Brendon on the cab ride, his hand touching my leg the entire time. We share these little smiles. Alex and Jack seem completely oblivious in the seats ahead of us. 

When we get there, fans are lined up outside already. We get out and walk up to them, because we have time to sign and take pictures. I sign my CD too many times to count, looking at the glossy cover with pride. It’s mine. I made a CD that people like enough to buy. I take pictures with slew of girls who all want to touch my hair and ask me about Brendon, who is at the front of the line talking to fans. 

One face in the crowd I notice instantly. “Pete?” I ask, confused. Why is Pete in New York? Why is Pete at our show? 

I see him look over at me and then look back to the girl he’s talking to. Is he seriously still angry at me? He calls me fucking undeserving and then comes to my show. I start walking over to him but Zack pulls at my arm, telling me I need to get to soundcheck. I take one last look at him and then walk inside.


	18. Chapter 18

I roll over in my bed, replaying the day’s events. Zack had to force all of us out of the lobby when we started making hoards of fans appear. I didn’t see Pete at all after our encounter outside. I was half-tempted to call him but then I chickened out. I’m Ryan Ross, I don’t need him anymore. Zack told us all to sleep for once, since lately we haven’t. Here I am, though, not sleeping in my uncomfortable hotel room. 

I put my hands into the air, staring at them. I know I need to sleep. I just can’t stop thinking of him. It’s so silly, even I know that. I can’t stop. I’ll roll over and see something like a dresser and think of Brendon’s room. Then Brendon. Then us. I feel like I’m caught in this completely predictable romance movie. 

I sigh and whip the sheets to the side. I stand up, expecting to get water.

“Can’t sleep, either?” Alex’s voice rings through the too empty hotel room. 

“I don’t think I ever can.” I mumble, feeling like I’m sleep walking towards the bathroom. Sure enough, there are paper cups stacked and I fill one up with tap water, too lazy to find one of the countless water bottles hanging around. I take a long drink then place it on the beside table in between Alex and me and I slip back under the sheets. Need more sleep. 

“So…” Alex says quietly. “What happened the other night?” 

I tug in a sharp breath just at the thought. I have to live with my dad. I know I could make one phone call and have it switched but that would ruin everything. I wouldn’t be proving my point if I gave in. “Just my parents.” I halfway lie. 

“Sorry, dude.” he says. 

“I really don’t want this tour to end.” 

“I know.” he sounds just as sad as I do all of a sudden. I flick my eyes over to his face painted with sorrow. “I haven’t been completely honest with you.” 

“How so?” I ask. 

“Well, Jack and I. We’re-” 

“Are you two dating?” I ask, my brain obviously not thinking about my response. 

“We too obvious?” 

I blink and look back over at him. He’s serious. No joke. I guess I kind of thought there was something but it’s nice to hear it out loud. It’s true. I’m not alone. 

“No.” I shake my head. Takes one to know one. 

“I guess it wouldn’t be that hard to guess after…” he trails on, knowing that the event he’s speaking of isn’t exactly grade A material in my book. 

“How long?” 

“Sometime before Halloween.” he shrugs, obviously not the one in the relationship with all the dates imbedded in their head. 

Halloween was roughly two weeks ago. I don’t remember it very well mainly because it was the first Halloween I have spent doing basically nothing. We had a show where we didn’t bother dressing up and we got extreme amounts of candy from fans but that was really it. I didn’t notice anything between them, really. 

“That’s cool.” I tell him. There isn’t more for me to say about what he’s telling me. I’m still not telling him about Brendon because no. I can’t right now. I’m not sure when I will be able to, but not now. 

“I thought you would be a good place to start.” he explains. “I’m not sure when I’m going to tell the rest. I think Jack has only told Brendon.” Brendon must be a good secret keeper because he hasn't told me yet.

“I won’t tell anyone.” I say quickly. I don’t want him thinking he’s told the wrong person. I feel like I have these weird ties with Alex and Jack all of a sudden. 

“Jack and Bren are still up.” he tells me, showing me his glowing phone in his hand. Mine’s been turned off since my mom called at the party. 

I instantly get suspicious. I know I shouldn’t. We are all friends. It’s just that I wonder if Brendon and I are not-so-conspicuous. I guess I wouldn’t mind if everyone in the band knew, I just don’t think I’m ready for that. I’m still getting over the fact that I’m gay. I need time to adjust before I tell anyone, even my closest friends. I don’t care that Alex just admitted it, I won’t. 

“Zack told us to stay in our rooms.” I point out, trying not to look eager. I want to go over but I can’t make everything look so obvious. 

Alex looks at me strangely. “Zack doesn’t even work for us.” 

“He can still kick my ass.” I smile.

“Fine.” Alex says, stumbling out of bed. “I’m going. I’ll tell Brendon to come over here.” 

I look away as Alex slings on a shirt and changes out of his pajama pants into jeans. I don’t need him thinking anything. He knows my tendencies but he doesn’t know for who. Hopefully.

“Okay.” I mumble, finally looking up to watch him leave the hotel room. 

I suddenly become anxious for Brendon’s arrival. I stand up, pulling on a shirt, but not bothering with putting jeans over my boxers. Safe to say he’s seen me in less. I bite my lip and wait. What if he doesn’t come? Hanging out with Jack and Alex would be cool, I guess. Probably more fun than me and-

I hear a knock at the door and I spring to my feet. I dash to the door and then open it. Brendon’s smiling like he knows exactly what I just did. I totally bet he did, too. I take note of the backpack he has slung on his back. 

“Movie night.” Brendon says excitedly, not even bothering with our usual hellos. He lets himself in, shutting the door with his foot. “Am I allowed to kiss you when I see you after a while apart or…” he trails on. 

I walk up to him, my hand going to the back of his neck. My lips are right next to his but I don’t move an inch yet. “Yeah.” I whisper then give him a quick kiss and step back from him. 

“So dramatic, Ryan Ross.” he laughs. 

I roll my eyes. “So, what are we watching?”

“Whatever you want. We can just buy it off the TV.” 

“I don’t care.” I mumble. “Are you staying here, and Alex with Jack?” 

“For the night.” Brendon moves his eyebrows suggestively. 

I awkwardly stumble back to the bed and demand he finds us a movie. Instead of him taking Alex’s bed, he makes me move over and sits close to me. There’s something so nice about it that I can’t put into words to tell him. I know this is what I want to be doing. He rests his head on my shoulder while looking for a movie. 

“I pick really shitty movies, Ry.” he complains. “That’s why you should do it.” he offers me the remote, but I decline. I don’t care what we watch. 

“Whatever you pick will be fine.” I assure him. “Besides, I thought you loved movies?” He gives me a questioning look like he has no idea what I’m referring to. “You’ve talked about your love for movies several times in interviews, Brendon.” 

“I swear, before we knew each other, you were stalking me.” 

“I wouldn’t call it stalking, more like preexisting knowledge.” 

He laughs at me with one of his trademark confused smiles and goes back to looking. Once he chooses one, we sit in silence and watch. I’m falling into sleep easily, my brain finally able to shut down now that Brendon is here. I close my fading eyes and feel my body being shaken. 

“Ryan!” Brendon wails, continuing to kill any form of sleep that might have gotten to me. “You can’t fall asleep yet!” 

He gets off the bed and I watch him with sluggish eyes. He grabs his pillow, then takes mine from behind my back. I slump my shoulders as I fall back into the wooden bed frame and watch Brendon fling them to the middle of Alex bed and mine. Next Brendon is snatching the blanket that we were sharing off from me. 

“Brendon!” I cry out, trying to reclaim the warmth that has been stolen from me. 

“Come on.” he smiles, offering his hand so I can get out of bed. I only raise an eyebrow. “I wanna make a fort.” 

I instantly start laughing and take Brendon’s hand. “You’re like three years old.” I shake my head, but start untucking the blankets from Alex’s bed.   
Brendon appears to have a plan set already. He flattens our sheets to the floor and places our pillows on top. Next he takes the blankets and spreads them across the cracks of the beds, tucking them into the crevices, using leftover pillows as paperweights. 

“Have you done this before?” I ask, watching with a smirk on my face. 

“No, I’ve been wanting to for at least a year now, though. No one to do it with. I do now.” he smiles shyly at me, grabbing at my hand. 

We sneak under the top of the blankets and to our respective pillows. I face Brendon and smile at the happiness playing out onto his face. He has enough happiness for both of us; all of mine is just extra. He grabs for my hand and stares at our fingers laced together. He keeps smiling, like he’s proud of the way our fingers managed to converge so well. 

“We can’t see the TV anymore.” I point out. The blankets are nearly falling down onto us but I think Brendon is still amazed at his handy work, refusing to admit defeat. 

“Don’t need a TV.” he says, his eyes gleaming at me. “Talk to me.” 

I smirk at him. “About what?” I can’t think of anything remotely interesting to tell him. 

“Anything.” 

I move my hand that’s not occupied with Brendon’s and touch his face. I move it across his jawline and to his hair that I’ve learned the smell of. I wonder why in the world it took so long for this to be okay. Suddenly I have all these unspoken privileges with Brendon and I’m not sure how everything is supposed to work between us. I twirl his brown locks through my fingers until I feel like Brendon is demanding words from me. 

“I’m really happy.” I tell him. There. That belongs in the category of ‘anything.’ 

“That’s good.” he whispers. I like his whisper voice. 

My hand is still rifling through his hair. He doesn’t seem to mind. I try to stay positive but there is this knowledge looming in my head. He’ll be gone soon. Once the tour’s over, boom, we’re in different worlds. I just wish that everything would just pause for a while and let Brendon and me have this. 

“Oh,” I break the silence that has enveloped us. “You’re good at keeping secrets, Brendon.” 

“How so?” he asks, eyebrows knit together.

“Alex told me about him and Jack. Weird, right? Looks like we’re not alone.” 

“I’m surprised he didn’t tell you until now.” Brendon remarks. “I’m happy for Jack. He’s been through some tough, fucked up relationships. Alex seems like a nice guy.” 

“I say we just extend this tour and make everyone happy.” I suggest. 

“Okay.” Brendon says sleepily. 

I lean over and kiss him because I can. It’s slow but doesn’t last that long and I snuggle into Brendon’s neck afterwards. I hear his content sigh and I smile. I start humming a song that has been in my head for way too long. Brendon must know it because he joins in. I think this is all I need in life.   
When Brendon starts singing an extra verse I ask, “Can we go back to kissing?” 

Brendon doesn't say anything in reply, just stops singing and puts his lips on mine. I kiss back fervently. Brendon wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me closer. I move my hand to his cheek, the tips of my fingers grazing over the ends of his hair. We stop a little to catch up on breathing, which I usually forget about at times like these. I go back to Brendon’s lip, hungrier than last time. 

I quickly find myself rolled over and on top of Brendon. He doesn’t seem to mind, his hand roaming my back and pushing my shirt up and down. I try to move a little so I’m hopefully not crushing Brendon but it only conjures up a moan from him, who apparently doesn’t mind my weight. I laugh a little and realize we are totally getting horny and touching in a pillow and sheet fort. There has to be some rule against this, for the kids, I mean. 

I move up a little, making sure our crotches rub up against each other. I get the reaction I want, him breaking our kiss to breathe my name. He recovers quickly and starts attacking my neck and biting the skin lightly. I just close my eyes and let out heavy breaths. 

Brendon starts nibbling on my earlobe when he says, “You should fuck me, Ryan.” 

I instantly open my eyes and bite my lip. My brain isn’t quite hearing things right, I don’t think. When I look down to see Brendon has that ‘I shouldn’t have said that out loud’ look on his face, I realize he did. 

“Have you ever…” I trail on, knowing he can figure out the rest. 

It’s like, I’m sure he’s had sex with a girl. Hell, even I have. I just don’t know if William, or any other male for that matter, has done anything with him. Part of me hopes he hasn't so I don’t seem so inexperienced.

“Once with William.” he mutters, going back to my neck, his hands still rubbing my skin. God, obviously Brendon knows how to get me to say yes. 

“Are you sure about this?” I ask, squirming at the thought. I can admit I have totally thought about it before. Wondered if it’s as good as I think it could be. 

“God, yes!” he cries out, obviously having put more thought to this than I expected. Or he doesn’t care.

I take one look at his bliss taken face and decide that I might just want this as much as he does. “Okay, but we should go on the actual bed.” I say, tugging at the already broken fortress Brendon was just so proud about only a few minutes ago. 

Brendon nods his head excitedly and helps me destroy his masterpiece. We move everything to Alex’s bed and I watch as Brendon goes quickly to his backpack he brought. He picks out a condom from the bottom and then jolts to the bathroom. 

“Lotion should work, right?” he asks from the bathroom. 

I suddenly realize what I’m going to do; I’ll put my dick in his ass. Even though it may seem foreign to me, I still get turned on. There is no way I can deny I’m gay anymore. “I can assume.” I say almost impatiently. 

Brendon walks back out looking disheveled. His hair is pushed in crazy directions because I obviously can’t control my hands. His clothes are crinkled and his shirt looks unnecessary on him. It’s a great look. He just smirks at my blatant staring and increasing impatience.

He walks towards me, his eyes gleaming darkly. I meet him halfway, our lips doing the same. He shrugs the items in his hands to the bed and continues touching me. We slowly make our way to the bed and fall onto it together. I’m back on top of Brendon in no time and I feel his hands trying to get my shirt out of the way. I comply and let him take it off of me. Next is his shirt. Then my pants. Then his. Everything goes by so quickly I barely realize it until Brendon has hands on my boxers. 

“Have I ever mentioned how nice you look barely naked?” Brendon whispers into my ear. I smile lightly, my face probably going a crimson red. “You’d look even nicer naked.” 

His hands start tugging down my boxers and I let him because everything seems to be going even slower all of a sudden. I watch his eyes draw in me, then they flicker to the forgotten condom and lotion at the end of the bed. He looks over at me as if he’s asking for acceptance. I play with the waistband of his boxers and hope he understands. Before retrieving the items, we both tug down his underwear. I just stare the same way he did, extremely turned on. I watch him as he leaves and I watch him as he comes back. 

“I never asked,” Brendon mutters, trying to open the condom but his fingernails appear to be too short. “Have you ever done this with a guy?” 

“No.” I say, snatching the wrapper from his hands and opening it all the way. 

Brendon makes better use of his hands by dragging them on my dick. I open my mouth a little, my breath more heavy. He doesn’t bother going quickly, and I have to put the condom down so I can grab onto Brendon’s waist. 

“You’re distracting.” he mutters, snatching up what I just put down. I think he tries to look sexy as he slowly puts the condom on me, but he has difficulties partway through. I help him, my smile never fading away. Or my hard on. “You know how this works, though, right?” 

“Kind of.” I shrug. It can’t be that difficult to find out how. 

“Okay.” he mutters, his voice low. “You should put a finger in me then.” 

I try to look like I totally knew that was coming, but I was completely straight until Brendon came along. I never thought about how two men engage in intercourse until him. I kind of assumed you had to do something before, you know, you put your penis anywhere. 

“Yeah.” I say, deciding it’s better to just stop thinking so intently about anything. 

I push him so we’re both lying down again, us instantly connecting our lips. I trace circles onto his skin, my fingers getting daringly low. I decide that I don’t really want to tease Brendon and I grab the lotion bottle. I get an amount that looks like enough to me onto my fingers and nervously bring them to Brendon’s ass. I don’t waste any time, sticking it in only a little. I wait to see Brendon’s reaction. It isn’t much, just an urging look. I push in more and Brendon seems a little pained. 

“Please tell me I’m doing this right.” I say, because, really? How the hell do you even fuck this part up?

“Yeah,” he says, his words breathy. “No, just add another.” 

I do as he asks, feeling the stretch I’m making. I start moving them in and out slowly and Brendon obviously enjoys this, his hips bucking up. I try to move my fingers around a little bit before pulling them out, and Brendon lets out a loud moan. I widen my eyes and add another finger before pushing in again. I don’t think he minds, his face breaking out in pleasure. 

“You can totally fuck me now.” Brendon gasps, his hands in my hair. 

I take my fingers out, Brendon seeming a little sad from my actions. I find the lotion bottle and get some more out. I rub it on my dick, something I’m a little more familiar with than Brendon’s ass. I move closer to Brendon then put my tip to his hole, maybe wanting to tease him just a little. I grab onto his hips with one hand, and the base of my cock with the other. I slowly and a tad apprehensively push into him. It’s nothing like I expected; the only thing I was completely right about was how good I thought it would feel. Seriously, I haven’t even gotten in all the way and I’m panting. 

Brendon, on the other hand, doesn’t seem as turned on as me. I push in all the way, hoping it will bring up a reaction. Nothing really happens. I slowly start pushing in and out and Brendon suddenly becomes alive, evidently liking my movement. I close my eyes, letting out a matching moan to Brendon’s. I feel an overwhelming sensation brew in me. I’m also realizing how stupid I was for not doing this sooner with him. 

“Jesus!” I yell out, a sigh escaping my lips. 

I keep going, Brendon starting to meet me halfway now. He seems even more bliss taken than I do. I capture his face in my memory bank and hope it stays there for a while. I let my hand roam his body, my lips going in for deep kisses. I’m in a completely new barrier of feelings I have never experienced before, my inner tempo racing. 

“Fuck, right there, Ry.” Brendon chokes, his eyes closed now. “Touch me.”

I quickly reach out to his leaking cock and don’t waste time. I start getting him off with quick strokes, my hand a little shaky from the pleasure in the pit of my stomach that’s slowly building up. I can literally feel Brendon get close then, with one final stroke, he comes in between our sweaty bodies. Almost at the same time, I climax and just come into the condom. 

I stop my hips from moving, Brendon and me panting loudly. I clutch onto his body, his come still on both of our stomachs. I kiss his neck gently. He simply twirls my hair in his fingers. I finally feel like I can move again, and get my dick out of Brendon’s ass. I take the condom off, tying it up and throwing it into the trash can. I grab one of the abandoned blankets on the floor and cover Brendon and me with it. 

“Sweet dreams.” I mumble into Brendon’s ear, before we both get caught in another world that probably won’t be as sweet as this.


	19. Chapter 19

The next morning, I wake up tangled in skin. Brendon's still asleep, his face in the depth of neck. He looks peaceful until he realizes my alarm clock is forcing him out of his slumber. He doesn't appear confused as he swats at where he thinks the noise is coming from and tugs his body closer to mine. I reach for my phone and turn it off. 

"Brendon." I whisper, my fingers dancing over his jawline. "End of tour celebration is today." 

"Sh," he breathes. "Celebration of sleep now." 

"Are you sure you want sleep right now?" I tease, my fingers now on his hip bones nearing his obvious morning wood.

He quickly moves my fingers. "You know there isn't time, you dick." he says flatly, finally opening his eyes.

It's true, I usually set my alarm clocks at the last possible time. Brendon has to leave, Alex gets to come back. I know we should hurry up and get dressed before Alex walks in on us in our matching nakedness.

I have to remove myself from Brendon, searching the floor for where we ripped my boxers off. Brendon only squirms on the bed.

"You're only making it worse!" he exclaims, shielding his eyes from my body. 

I throw a pillow from the ground at him. "Shut up, Bren." I say, quickly putting on clothes. "Now hurry up and get dressed before Alex gets here." 

He makes a pouty face but still manages out of bed. He looks damn good while doing it, too. I instantly think back to last night and for once don't feel remorse. I'd do it again, too. Soon, please. I think he might just feel something by the ways he’s walking. 

We get on clothes quickly and Brendon mentions grabbing food from the breakfast hall and kisses me like we have done it our whole life. He's mine now. I comb through my hair with my fingers and finally decide to get my phone out to send Brendon dumb messages. I am only just plugging it into the charger when Alex comes back. He looks equally disheveled as me and I can only assume what Jack and he were up to. He doesn't seem happy like me, which kind of confuses me.

"Alex?" I ask, but he ignores me. I watch him pull out his phone from his pocket and fiddle around with it.

"Jack and I were just on our phones and stuff this morning and he was looking through this shitty gossip site and well..." he hands me his phone, his face looking nervous.

I grab at it quickly, my eyes adjusting to the screen right away. The first thing I see is enough to make me want to throw it back to him.

"No. No, fuck, no." I curse, staring at the pictures.

There's two of them, both taken right outside this very hotel. The first one is fairly dark and blurry, but you can still make out Brendon and me. He's clutching onto my hand and his lips are on mine. The next one is a lot lighter, our faces pulled apart and smiling like we've won the lottery.

"I mean, at first Jack and I were like 'no!' but then there is, like, no way you can deny that's not Brendon and you. Especially the second one. And I don’t care, trust me, it’s just...a shock. I guess I kind of thought Brendon and you were…together.”

I quickly scan through the article, the writer thinking we are ‘cute but not very stealthy about the relationship.’ I cringe and quickly hand it back to Alex but not before noticing that it was posted last night, sometime after the show.

"Alex, oh my god. My whole family could read this. Brendon's family. Fuck." I am basically hyperventilating at this point.

"I would have told you sooner but we just found out." he says, sitting down on the bed with me. He puts a calming arm around me but I wiggle out of it.

"I need to find Brendon. I need to warn him." I say, shooting up from the bed. "I swear, there was nobody near us. The fucking alley was empty. Oh my god." I'm just rambling. 

"Woah, Ryan, calm down." Alex says, walking towards me.

"Alex!" I yell. "I can't be fucking calm! I'm in so much trouble." 

Just then, my phone starts ringing. I dash over to it, expecting Brendon. I'm only greeted with the caller ID 'Dad.' 

"It's my dad." I freak out, dropping my phone like it's on fire. "What do I do?" 

"Just get it over with." he shrugs. "Maybe he doesn't know." 

I frown because I know there is no way in hell that my dad is just randomly calling. He doesn't just call. He must know. I slowly reach for it and I'm fairly certain my hands are shaking but I don't bother finding out because I'm hitting the answer button.

"Hello?" I say nervously, my voice sounding shaky to my own ears.

"Ryan." my dad says sternly. I allow myself to freak out. It's so obvious he knows. I can hear the hatred just pouring into my name. "What-What are these?" 

I bite my lip and debate whether I should play stupid. "What?" I say, going out on a whim.

"Dammit, Ryan, you know what I'm talking about, those pictures. Some fucking girl from work had to show me what my son’s been up to!" he says, probably forcing back the urge to scream at me. I don't dare make a sound so he continues our conversation for me. "You need to come home. We can figure this out, help you." 

I jab my nail into my palm. Help? "We have one show left." I say, my teeth clenched.

I watch as Alex slowly leaves the room. He gives me a solemn look before he closes the door and I'm left with the voice of my father to torture me. "You need to come home—fine. Okay. Finish he tour, but I swear if anything else gets out..." he stops, as if he is deciding what my punishment will be.

"Do you honestly think I would let something else get out?!" I yell incredulously. I'm sick of trying to be kind or something to his ass.  
"If you were smart you wouldn't have let anything happen between you and...him." the last part comes out nasty and sour. It wouldn't be the same story if the sentence would have ended with a 'her.' 

"You mean Brendon." I suggest, knowing that he'll hate it. "The one I kissed."

"Ryan!" he yells at me, getting my expected reaction.

"You wanna know something else, Dad?" I ask him, playing a dangerous game. But, God, he's already so upset, so why not? "Brendon's my boyfriend." 

There's this agonizing silence, were I regret even telling him. I mentally shoot myself in the head for acting so stupidly.

"Ryan, shut the fuck up, you don't know what you're talking about! You fucking disappointment!" he screams at me. I hate how it sounds like me.

I feel him win this round and I'm not completely sure if there will be more to come. I just feel my throat stop working, my tongue going dry. He must know how much I hate when he says things like that. I can't help but to believe him; I'm a disappointment.

“Great,” I say, my jaw not wanting to open up for the bitter words that are crawling out of my mouth. “That’s not news to me.” 

“You should expect to live with your mother.” he says, his bitterness just as mutual. 

“I don’t really want to live with either of you.” I snarl, not caring about where I end up right now. “You’re both monsters.” I hope it hurts. I hope he still has some love for my mom, enough to stick up for her. Enough to feel something. 

“Don’t talk about me like that.” he yells, not coming to my mother’s rescue, but his own.

The thing is, they are monsters. They’re also the ones who raised me, creating something with the same magnitude. I’m just a Frankenstein, created with good intentions but failed miserably. Now I’m here, taking shots at my dad so I can feel an inch better about myself. I won’t stop myself, either. I can’t. 

“I plan to visit you sometime after the tour.” he tells me, his tone sounding sorted out. “I expect you to behave better than this.” 

“You just said it! I’m a disappointment. How am I supposed to live up to your fucking sky-high expectations?” 

“Try your hardest, Ryan.” he says angrily, then I hear the line die out. Dammit, I should have been the first to do that. 

I try calling Brendon, being sent to voicemail after six stinging rings. I fix my appearance and pull on a jacket, embarking to find Brendon. I start with the breakfast room. It looks a lot busier than it did yesterday morning. I search around for him, his black hair and red glasses nowhere to be found. I do see Alex, sitting and laughing with Jack. They have one plateful of food between them, each picking at the contents. I feel envious as I break their happiness. 

“How did it go?” Alex asks. He looks nervous. 

“It doesn’t matter.” I tell him, practically giving away how it went. “Have you seen Brendon?” 

I watch Alex and Jack exchange these awful glances and I know I should be worried. “Uh, well Jack told him when he came back to the room and I guess he stormed out. We aren’t really sure where he went.” 

I feel my face growing red. “Oh.” I say quietly. “Okay, well, thanks.” 

I make an uneasy exit and feel their eyes on my back. God, I must look so stupid. I just got pictures of myself kissing a guy released to the public and now I can’t even find the kid that started this all. I feel like everyone is staring at me and judging me as I walk through the hotel looking for Brendon. I try calling him again, my stomach hurting every time the ring goes straight through without his voice answering. 

I bet he is just in shock. Yeah. I would rather be in shock together. It took two people to make this mess, so it only seems right that two people get to feel miserable and try to work this out. When I make my way back into my room maybe ten minutes after my talk with Jack and Alex, I get a call saying I better get to the venue in ten. Our last show for the tour. What a way to end this. 

 

The show isn’t as spectacular as I expected. I thought there was going to be some awful tour prank, but nothing happened. I’m just hoping that no one didn’t do it because of the pictures. I would rather laugh than watch everyone skirt around me nervously. It’s like I’m some disease here. I wonder if people are doing the same thing to Brendon.

The second I get off stage, I’m hauling to the dressing room. Brendon’s in there, as expected. He’s finishing putting in his in-ears, his eyes flickering over my presence before he rushes to get it done. I walk over to him, feeling the eyes burning my back. I don’t care, though. 

“Brendon, you can’t just ignore this.” I say, my voice sounding dead. 

I had to wait for Brendon to show at the venue for soundcheck. He was ten minutes late, claiming that he got lost. He disappeared before I went on, me only looking for him lazily. Even then I was done with his game of hide and seek. When he came on stage for Mindset he completely ignored me. Didn’t walk my way, didn’t make eye contact, and didn’t even try to look like he was having fun. 

“Ryan, I gotta go prepare.” he wavers, his eyes not daring to meet mine anymore. It hurts more than he thinks, I bet. 

I watch him leave the room, no parting nod or smile; just his legs leaving to someplace I can’t follow. I’m sure he’s going to a bathroom to warm up his voice. I’ve witnessed it before. I want to go after him and try to figure out why he’s doing this. I hate confrontation just as much as the next person, but Brendon’s just being a goddamn child about this. 

I try not to look too crestfallen and find a spot on one of the couches where the rest of my band mates are. Everyone has some kind of snack in their hand but I can’t bother to get food. I look at my hands in my lap, trying to think of an acceptable conversation topic. Alex does it for me. 

“I can’t wait to get out of school for a week in January.” he says. 

“What?” I look up to see sweaty Alex chewing on potato chips with an amused look on his face. 

“No one tells you anything, Ross.” he mutters, then gets to his point. “We have a video shoot the second week of January. We’re going someplace in south California.” 

“Oh.” I mutter. “That’s good.” 

I want to get out of school so this is really great news for me. The second we do get out of school, we are doing a summer tour. We’re headlining, which is a big deal for us. Most bands don’t headline for their second tour. It will be great to be on the road again. I already miss being on stage. We do have some random shows in California before school ends. 

Before we can even talk about anything else, we’re being shuttled back to the hotel. We’re told we only have thirty minutes to pack and shower before we have to leave for the airport. I go back to my room, figuring I can just talk to Brendon at the airport. We’ll probably end up sitting next to each other on the plane, too. 

“Is this yours?” Alex asks, throwing a shirt at my face. I nod, stuffing it into my backpack. “You talking to Brendon before we leave?” 

I look over to him. Great. I’m glad everyone knows how badly I failed at reining Brendon into a conversation. “I just assumed I’d talk to him at the airport. I mean, we’re always waiting around there for ages.” 

“Ryan, Established Heroes is hanging back for a few interviews they had planned like months ago. They got their flights switched for tomorrow.” he says, looking like he just kicked a kitten. 

“What?” I almost yell, jumping up from the mess I’ve been making with my clothes. 

I don’t bother with any parting messages to Alex. I grab my phone and leave the hotel room quickly. Brendon’s room is still where it was days ago and I jog to his door. I knock and Jack opens it. He looks like he was expecting me; maybe Alex texted him or something. 

“Brendon here?” I ask, even though I don’t really have to. He obviously knows why I’m here. 

“He’s eating on the main level.” Jack informs me. 

“Thanks.” I tell him, turning around. 

“Hey,” he yells. I reluctantly turn back towards him. “Since you’re leaving today and stuff. It was a good tour. See you soon?” 

“Yeah,” I actually smile because I’m glad someone can remember these types of things. “Bye, Jack.” I say, an awkward wave leaving my hand. 

I watch him let out an amused laugh and I leave to the elevator not far from his door. Once I’m in the dining hall I easily spot Brendon. He’s pushing food back and forth on his plate, looking lonely in a two-person booth. There are crowds of other people eating. Maybe Brendon thought he could hide. 

I march towards him and he notices me only when I sit across from him. “I’m leaving soon.” 

He doesn’t look up from his French fries when he replies. “I know.” I instantly can’t stand his voice. He sounds so empathetic, like whoever he was days ago is gone now. 

“Bren,” I almost sound like I’m pleading. He won’t even look at me. “You can’t do this to me. Okay, we both made this mess!” 

He finally looks up at me and I swear, for a few seconds there’s this twinge of sadness then he’s back to being void of emotions. “It’s nothing, Ryan.” 

“What’s nothing?” I shout, not caring about the people who give us funny looks. 

Brendon looks slightly annoyed by my yelling. “This!” he hisses. “This here.”

“What do you even mean?” I say, my sadness bleeding out into my words. He just doesn’t care and, God, it hurts. “Us? Is that really what you’re talking about?” 

“Yes!” he yells, dropping his eye contact. “We are nothing, Ryan. Don’t make this bigger than it has to be!” 

I feel my stomach drop. He’s lying. He must be. “You don’t mean that.” I shake my head, disgust lacing in it. “Is that what you’re trying to tell yourself? For your parents, maybe?” It sounds cruel out of my mouth but I’m just playing his game. 

“Shut up!” he growls, obviously not liking the turn the conversation has taken. 

“They don’t even talk to you!” I can’t feel bad. He wouldn’t. 

“Ryan, will you shut the fuck up?! You don’t even know them.” 

“But I know you, Brendon. I know you. And you’re just scared that those pictures will prove everything your family thinks. If they still won’t accept you, then why do you even bother with them?”   
“You don’t know me.” he whispers, sounding drawn. “You don’t understand, either.”   
“Stop lying to me!”   
I know he is. I can obviously tell how weak talking about his family makes him. I’m the same fucking way. I can tell this is just tied to his family’s constant mistreatment and judgment towards him. I know I could fix things, though.   
“This is your fault.” he keeps shaking his pretty head. “We should have never gone on that date.”   
I can’t breathe for a few seconds. “Why are you saying that? God, Brendon, you can’t be serious.” 

“Really, I am.” he’s looking into my eyes and that seems to finalize it for me. He must really be telling the truth. “It was fun, but I need to go back home and figure things out with Sarah and-” 

“Great!” I yell, abruptly standing up. I don’t want to hear this. “Have a great fucking life with her! I hope your family finally approves of you and I hope you definitely forget about everything between us. Which apparently didn’t mean a thing to you!” 

With that, I take one last look at him and rush out there. I don’t need to see him ever again. I know I will, though. He’s everywhere. I can feel my eyes watery as I lean against the cold, metal wall of the elevator. I close them to stop the threatening tears from cascading down my face. Brendon’s just another one. Another person that’s just given up on my bullshit. 

It’s so strange. Even before the elevator dings for my floor, I see everything. It’s like when they say when you die that you see your life flash before your eyes. I just see every moment that has been this relationship between Brendon and me. Our whole scenario of happiness we have conjured up over the months. It’s gone. Nothing left but ashes that only sting my insides. 

I need to leave this place.


	20. Chapter 20

When I reach the airport nearest to my house, my breathing feels heavy, like it’s forced. I blame Brendon. I don’t have anyone else to blame. Certainly not myself. I pull up my hood when I get outside, the cold weather greeting me like an old friend, and I realize I don’t have a ride. 

Once we landed, I fled to the bathroom. I locked myself in a stall and tried to pull myself together. I think of the whole seven hour flight I spent listening to music that only reminded me of Brendon. It was like a drug, I couldn’t stop. It was all I had left. I skipped over anything Established Heroes, though. After fifteen minutes, I made my tears stop and forced myself out of the stall. 

I’m not really sure where to go in all honesty. I know that I still have a key somewhere in my backpack. I can’t go to Brendon’s apartment and stay with him for the night; he’s not even there yet. I don’t even know where my dad lives; even if I knew I would never go to his house. I decide that I might as well go back to my mom’s house because I still have the key and I know where it is. 

I realize once again that I need a ride. The last thing I want to do is call my parents. I decide that maybe Gabe wants to see me. He would pick me up. I call his cell phone and after a few rings, I hear his disgruntled voice pick up. “Hello!” I know straight away he is drunk. Maybe Jon is with him, we’ve talked a couple of times. 

“Hey, Gabe, it’s Ryan. Are you with Jon?” 

“Ryan!” he shouts. “Ryan, ooh, lover-boy Ryan. I saw the pictures. Yikes! I didn’t know you were a faggot!” I feel like throwing up when he says it. If having Brendon turn mute on me and then tell me that I'm nothing is bad enough, here is my so-called friend making fun of me. He is drunk, but he’s always been a brutally honest drunk. I know when he drinks that he says anything he feels, just he doesn’t censor it like usual. 

“Is Jon there?” I ask again, feeling tears threaten to spill. Why is this happening so often? I don’t want to cry. It just always happens. 

“Were you trying to get in my pants?” Gabe suddenly asks, still ignoring my question. “Like, I always thought you were clingy, but gay? Never. Ha! I still can’t believe Brendon is, too! Did you, like, convert him? Oh! You’re like a vampire.” 

“No, Gabe.” I sigh. “Seriously though, can I talk to Jon?” 

“Why do want to talk to Jon? Gonna convert him, too?” he snorts, laughing at his own joke. 

“Stop it! God, all I want to do is talk to him. I need a ride.” I yell. I’m really fed up with him, but I need a ride. 

“I can drive you!” 

“You’re fucking drunk, Gabe! Will you please hand the goddamn phone to Jon?” 

“Wow, you’re a temperamental gay.” 

I hang up, having the urge to throw my phone across the cold cement I’m standing on. I don’t even know what to do. Everything feels awful. I drag my large tour suitcase to the bench then sit. I put my head in my hands and have another strong urge to cry. I force myself not to. I can figure this out.   
The thing is, I have never been good at figuring things out. Usually I just throw them to the side. I never try to reconcile relationships after they have crashed and burned. I know I should completely despise Brendon, but I can’t. There’s just a strong burning in my chest that won’t seem to go away.   
I peek through the cracks in my fingers and try to think of a way I could feel better. Almost instantly, I am shoveling off my backpack, reaching into its depths and pulling out my notebook and a loose pen. I start scribbling things down. I might not be good at talking about my feelings, but I have always been all right with twisting them into different contexts. I know how to mask my feelings into something that’s much better than what they are. I feel my heart bleed out onto the paper, leaving ink stains that I will probably try to get rid of at some point in time. 

That’s the fucked up thing about me now. I’ll probably end up using these dreadful-locked words in a song. Who even knows when or if that would be released. A year? Longer? Brendon would finally hear what I’ve got to say, but just much too late. I don’t know if I wish Brendon was doing the same right now. Maybe he’s hunched over a notebook, pen poised in his grip, releasing his thoughts onto the endless amount of lines. Maybe one day I’ll hear his thoughts and he can hear mine. For now, we’re just people who can’t talk. 

My phone vibrates, so I pull it out of my pocket. ‘Where are you? -jon.’ I sigh in relief. I have no idea how he figured it out, but I love him. I send him a quick text to let him know which airport I'm at. I stand up, hoping that Jon will be able to spot me with my hood on because it is too cold to take it off. I pull down my sleeves and try to look emotionally stable. I don’t think it works. 

Soon enough, Jon is outside the airport, his car stops and I walk to it quickly. Jon is quick and opens the trunk for my suitcase. I smile at him, hopefully conveying my utter thankfulness for him. We get into the car and we’re silent until we get on the highway. 

“I’m sorry about Gabe. He’s wasted.” Jon explains. 

“I don’t care about Gabe.” I say, finally taking off my hood. “Thanks for this though. I...I really didn’t want to call my parents.” He must know about the pictures by now. 

“It’s no problem, man.” he tells me. “And look, I don’t care about Brendon and you. Not everyone is as big of a dick as Gabe.” 

“Seems like they all are.” I whisper, feeling like I can say anything to Jon. In actuality, I have only had a few conversations with him. Part of me just feels like I know him. I want to, at least. “God, my mom might be home.” I say out loud, realizing the worst. 

“Does she know…?” he asks. 

“I’m not sure. My dad called me, though. H-he’s not happy.” I stutter. I don’t even want to think about that mess. He’s out of the house, though. “I don’t even know how my mom will react.” 

“She might not mind.” Jon shrugs. 

“I wouldn’t be so lucky.” I tell him, a cynical laugh to accommodate it. 

We sit in silence the whole ride, minus when I have to tell him where my house is at. The silence is bad, just ominous. The tour was so loud. The car ride is so quiet. I can’t juggle between the two. 

When we get to my house, I clear my throat awkwardly. “Thanks, Jon. It really means a lot.” I try to look sincere, because I really am, but I’m sure my tense nervousness is more prevalent in my features. 

“Hey, wait.” he says, as I reach for the car door. “I don’t really want to tell you this, but Pete is kind of going around the school saying he took those pictures. He’s shown practically everyone. I’d just be careful when you come back.” 

I blink a few times trying to draw in what he has told me. Pete. Pete Wentz was the one who outed Brendon and me? I know he was angry about me touring, but that’s just low. I have a haunting memory of Pete after the concert, ignoring my calls for him. He must’ve been confused. Had to be. Maybe. 

“Pete? He took them?” I ask hurriedly. Maybe I was wrong. 

“Uh-huh.” he tells me, pity in his voice. I don’t want pity. I never have. 

“Oh.” I mutter. “Well, thanks for telling me and stuff.” I say stiffly. I grab my backpack and exit the car, grabbing my suitcase before waving Jon away. 

I walk to my door, disbelief still brewing in me. I knew I never liked Pete. At least I have a justification now. Thankfully my door is unlocked, so I let myself in quietly. The house is dark so I assume no one is home. When I walk downstairs to my room, a familiar sense of home fills me. I can see my bed and my desk and my dresser and I’m just a little happy. I drop my backpack to the floor and look around my room. 

Then I notice it. On my bed lays a magazine. I pick it up and feel sick looking at the cover. It’s Brendon and me. His hand is messing up my hair and I’m smiling at him and so is he. It brings back painful memories. Coincidence they chose that picture. It’s almost a cruel joke now. Everyone knows about us, so I can only imagine the rumors. I throw the magazine across the room, upset at how easily I let it get to me. 

Disgusting ghosts still fly around me. Brendon, the first time he came over, lying on my bed with a bag of chips in hands. His smile brighter than ever. Even then he liked me; I was just too oblivious to see it. Next, I see Brendon by my bookshelf holding up all of the Established Heroes CDs. His face is full of pride. I remember he showed the same look when we were in Chicago. Right before–

I sit down on my bed, putting my head into my hands for the millionth time today. I try to breathe in evenly, but find it to be difficult. My head starts to throb and I hate this. I don’t want to sit here and pine for someone who obviously won’t do the same for me. 

In conclusion, it was nice. I don’t really think it was a relationship, it only lasted a day. If that isn’t a big enough warning for us to stop trying, I don’t know what is. I don’t need Brendon, though. He was just confusing me. Maybe I’m not gay. Maybe I just found the one guy I would go gay for and now that it’s over I’m back to being straight. I know that I’m wrong. After what Brendon and I did, I don’t think I will go into a relationship with a girl and expect good things out of it. 

It’s awful the way my head misses him. I keep hoping my phone will chime or he will knock on my door and apologize. I want to see him. I want to hold him. Everything would get better, right? Probably not, but I’ve always been a pessimistic person. 

“Ryan?” 

I look up to my doorway and see my mom. She’s smiling timidly at me, like she’s not sure how to speak to me. 

“I was going to pick you up when you called, but you never did.” she tells me. I wonder why she didn’t come downstairs sooner, but maybe she was expecting me to come visit her. I didn’t even know she was here. 

“I got a ride from Jon.” I say, not meeting her eye contact, but still looking at my bookcase. I just want to throw out my Established Heroes CDs. I could crack the discs. Scratch the backs, make them unplayable. 

“Oh. Okay.” she nods. “How was tour?” 

She needs to stop asking that. It’s strange to hear it from her. Tour. I was on tour. I’ve wanted that since I was a young kid. I finally got it, better than anything I expected. Just suddenly, it didn’t seem as good. Brendon had made it bittersweet. 

“Good.” I tell her, probably not looking truthful. It really was a good tour, though. I don’t want to complain.

“Are you all right?” she says, walking a little more into my room, then stopping abruptly. I don’t make much of an attempt to persuade her I’m fine. I just nod then look down to my hands that are on my lap. I hear her sigh loudly. “Ryan, we need to talk about the pictures.” 

I close my eyes, anger burning through me. Of course. Get that out of the way. “What about them?” I yell, my eyes fluttering open. I didn’t mean to say it so loudly, but I am too upset to be quiet. She doesn’t say anything, just looks shocked at my outburst. “What?! Are you going to call me a faggot, too? You could do what Dad did, just tell me all about the disappointment I have turned into. Which, you know, I totally forgot about. You could stop talking to me altogether. Blame everything on me!” 

She looks scared when I finish. I don’t mean for it. I suddenly feel like my dad. He always made my mom get those looks. I want to apologize right away. I didn’t want to make this an angry conversation but it wasn’t really going that way anymore. After saying those things I’m just sad. I feel tears form in my eyes and I blink them back. I’m just so sick of that. 

There’s another silence in the room. I usually like those during the tour, but lately these haven’t been fun. I just want the roaring crowds and loud tour bus parties. I want anything but to be chocked by this silence. I want to escape. I did for a while, but now I’m back. 

Suddenly the tears well over and I feel them run down my cheeks. I feel small. I don’t want to cry, but it feels good. I hear my mom’s footsteps and I think she is leaving. It’s not until I feel the bed dip and arms sling around me I realize she’s come over to comfort me. 

I drop my head onto her shoulder and just cry. I feel like that’s all I know how to do at this moment. I wrap my arms around her and feel young again. I haven’t cried in front of her in years; not since I was young. We never talk. I just have a feeling we can change that. At least for now. All the years when I was younger and all I wanted her to do was come and comfort me, she didn't. It’s like she finally understands. We can finally share heartbreak. It’s devastating for me to even think about.

“I’m sorry,” I choke out. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with him.” I clutch on to her more, squeezing my eyes shut. 

I said it loud. It’s real now. It’s always been stuck in my head with this awful sense of urgency. I guess I’ve known but I couldn’t admit it. I told someone, though. It might not be the person I want it to be, but someone’s heard me. All this crying isn’t just me alone. He’s left me and I’m in love and it’s not my fault. Never. 

She must hate me. I’m a boy. I’m not supposed to fall in love with other boys. Especially when the boy you do fall in love with doesn’t feel the same way. Because that, well, that just hurts. 

“No!” she says, pulling out of our embrace and placing her hands on my shoulder. She looks me in my eyes. “I don’t care about all of that. It’s your life and your heart and I don’t want you to feel bad about your decisions. I love you regardless of who you love. Don’t say sorry.” she pulls me in for another hug. 

“It doesn’t matter now!” I say, sadness running through me. “I screwed it up.” 

“It’ll be fine.” she soothes, not even asking for the whole story. I couldn’t be more grateful. 

I just stay there in her embrace, feeling better and better as the minutes pass. I finally pull apart, most of my crying done with. I try to nonchalantly dry my eyes, but my mom obviously knows I’ve been crying. It’s just that lately I have been doing this way too often. 

Suddenly, all the mean comments I told her seem wrong. I don’t care that she got a divorce behind my back as much now. Someone finally accepts me. I’m lucky. There’s no other way to put it. I don’t even want to think about how badly Brendon’s family will treat him. God, I bet Dan will bombard his apartment with bible verses and force him to go to church. 

I don’t want to think about Brendon now, though. 

“I know you really don’t want to hear this...but at least a month ago I invited Shannon, Sarah, and Lilly over for dinner. I hadn’t expected you to be home and now you are and…” She doesn’t go any further. It probably saves me from another fit. “I can call them and cancel it?” 

“It’s, uh, okay.” I whisper. 

It really isn’t. Sarah must know by now. It can’t just be a coincidence that Brendon broke up with her and then not even two days later there are pictures released of us. If she doesn’t hate me, I’ll be surprised. I just feel like I owe it to my mom. I don’t want to decline her sister visitation in our house just because of Brendon. Maybe they won’t even know...yeah, no. 

“Ryan,” she says, sounding worried, “you don’t have to do that.” 

“I’m going to have to do it at some point.” I mention. Why am I the one persuading her? 

“You should probably get some sleep, they’ll be here early.” I nod, trying to block out any bad thoughts. Sleep is a good thing. I need it right now. “Hey.” she says, and I look up. “If he doesn’t need you, you don’t need him.” 

With that she walks out. I would love to correct her and let her know that I kind of do need Brendon, regardless of if he needs me or not. I’m supposed to hate him, though. There’s something that just won’t happen. 

I don’t bother with my clothes, just clean my bed off, turn off the lights, and dive under the covers. Everything seems cold. I reach my hands out, as if they’re searching for a lost body. It annoys me how much I wish he was here, us selling each other our darkest secrets for a kiss or two. I miss him, but that’s not something I want to admit. 

 

The next morning I wake up to nothing, the same I fell asleep to. I don’t feel as hollow. I feel more like I just woke up from being in a coma. It’s like my eyes aren’t adjusted to the bright sun peeking through the curtains, or my feet aren’t ready to take so many steps to my closet. Even worse, my mind feels like it’s been turned off for a few months. It’s almost like I have been living inside my head and have missed everything on the outside world. 

Well, I’m awake now. 

I can feel a headache forming, the thudding getting rapidly worse by the seconds. Heartbreak. Hah, why do they even call it that? It’s not affecting my heart, rather my brain. It’s not my heart that made the decision to fall in love with Brendon, it was my head. For all these years we’ve been blaming the heart. All it’s been doing is keeping us alive. 

I blink at my empty closet, only to realize that practically everything acceptable I wear is stuffed in my tour suitcase. Everything seems to come back to me then. I was missing a giant gap and suddenly here it is. Harsh and cold and everything I don’t want it to be. I zip open my tour case and pull on something worthy of visitors then walk upstairs to the kitchen. I slump in a kitchen chair as my mom prepares something for lunch. 

“They’ll be here soon.” she says, her voice quiet and unsure. I only nod. 

I kind of wish last night would disappear from our minds. I hate the fact that I cried in front of her. I shouldn’t have even told her anything. She knows. I haven’t even told Brendon yet. I had barely told myself. I feel like we have this strange connection, still. We both lost someone. It’s not the kind of tie I wanted with her when I was younger, but it’s something. 

“You look so much older, Ryan.” she muses, turning around from the stirring and staring at me. I can usually deal with long looks now, having performed in front of way too many people, but this is worse. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“About what?” I ask, hoping she isn’t referring to what I think she is. 

“Brendon, it’s just, if you talk about it, I think it will help. After the divorce I talked through my whole marriage with my mom, and it just made me feel better. Felt like closure or something.” 

I break my eye contact with her. I don’t want closure. I don’t need it. Everything still seems so fresh, like there is still blood coming out of the wound Brendon gave me. It sounds impossible to explain things. “What do you want to know?” 

“First kiss.” she says, her voice kind of excited. I cringe a little. We don’t talk about things, especially things like this. 

“Um,” I begin. I’m not exactly sure what I’m supposed to say. “It was when I was still picking him up every day for school. One day he didn’t come outside so I went into his apartment and it was right when he got told his sister was diagnosed with cancer...and Brendon just kissed me, I don’t know.” The memories seem to sting my tongue. There’s this pain in the top of my chest that refuses to go away. God, how is this supposed to help?

“When did you know that you liked him?” she wonders. Her face looks strangely proud of me. Like: Wow, look, my son kind of knows how to comfort someone. She’s never taken any interest in my other girlfriends.

I sit there frozen. I instantly think back to that day I slept over at Brendon’s house and it was storming and we were trying to watch Titanic. He told me that he ‘liked my face.’ It sounds silly, but I remember that was the first time I realized that maybe, just maybe I liked him more than a friend. Now that moment just hurts. He doesn’t mind saying all those sweet comments but when we both get in trouble, it’s all my fault.

“Just one day when I was helping him paint and we ended up watching Titanic.” 

She gives me a look that I can only decipher as ‘why didn’t I know my son was gay before now?’ 

“Did you guys go on a date?” she asks.

“Yeah. He took me to a symphony.” I say, jabbing my nail into my palm. Why does this hurt so much? “It was really nice, and we went out to eat and...then after that, that was when someone took those pictures. Once those were released he, uh, stopped talking to me. Made sure to tell me it was my fault, though.”

“It can’t all be your fault, Ryan.” she says, giving me a pitying look. 

There’s an unbearable silence that I can’t stand but I have no words to fill it. I just know that my mom is about to, though. “When did you know you loved him?” she asks me quietly.

“I, uh, I’m not sure.” I stammer. I honestly don’t know when I started to love the kid. 

I cowardly duck my head and stare at my lap. There’s a knock on the door and I stand apprehensively. She’s cooking, so I have to go welcome them. Shit. 

“Keep stirring, I’ll get the door.” she says, obviously noticing my blatant awkwardness for this whole situation. 

I take my spot by the stove and stir the unidentified liquid. I hear the door being opened and happy cheers of welcome. I hear a particular set of feet stomp upstairs before everyone else does. I get nervous, expecting Sarah to pounce on me already. I just find Lilly’s soft smile staring at me when she rounds the corner.

“Ryan!” she jogs over, instantly pulling me into a hug. “My sister said you wouldn’t be home but I looked up the tour dates and you had none left so…”

We have never hugged as a welcome before but it feels unnatural not to. We stay that way for a little, us moving away from each other with happy smiles on our faces.

“Oh my god,” she says excitedly, “my cousin is a celebrity! So, ha-ha to all the times at family gatherings when no one wanted to sit by you and I was like ‘this kid doesn’t look that bad!’ I bet they are all at home wishing they would’ve given you a chance, now!” 

“Thanks, Lilly.” I smirk. “Only close to me so you can higher your status, I see.” 

“Always have been.” she jokes, pushing me lightly. 

I was nervous about this dinner, but Lilly’s welcome makes it seem like it won’t be that bad. I have someone to lean back on. I just know the instant Sarah and her mom walk into the room, I’m done for. Shannon doesn’t look positively pissed at me, just flickers eyes my way with a cold smile. I try to replicate it. 

“Hi.” I manage. 

Sarah doesn’t bother noticing my presence, instead sits down at our kitchen table with a dark stare at the wood. We all sit down, my mom bringing the food to the large table. I take a lot, missing home cooked meals. I pick up my fork, ready to start devouring my meal when my aunt speaks up. 

“Ryan,” she says in a warning voice, “wait until we pray.” 

I confusedly put down my eating utensil. I tap a fast beat onto the table, impatiently waiting for everyone to be done serving themselves. Once they are finally done, everyone bows their head on cue. Sarah’s nonexistent voice, until now, speaks up. She goes on and on about thanking everyone for the food and family and even decides to add a whole part about sinning in there. I feel as though it was a direct jab at me being gay but I can’t really try to be offended. 

We eat in a strange silence that has a metal silverware clinking onto glass plates accompaniment. I feel like it is my duty to bring up a conversation topic but I just can’t think of anything to say. I want to just tell Sarah that she really shouldn’t be angry with me; I didn’t win either. 

I feel an uncomfortable separation from the people I’m eating with. I just spent a few weeks with heaps of people who I fit in with. I’ve spent my whole life feeling like I just don’t belong anywhere, but I swear, on that tour I felt like I was finally part of something. It wasn’t just me. I found my way back to it, though. 

“Sarah, Lilly, how is school going?” my mom asks, anxiousness lacing her words. 

“Great.” Sarah says, her jaw clenched. She only pushes the food on her plate, occasionally taking small nibbles. “My boyfriend broke up with me, though.” 

We all look back at our food. It’s safe to say that everyone knows. I feel like I’m the direct cause of Sarah’s issue. I really didn’t mean to be. I didn’t meet Brendon and automatically think I would fall in love with him. Hell, I didn’t even meet him and hope for a goddamn relationship. I was just impressed, because he was my idol. Still kind of is. 

Unfortunately, I was Sarah’s victim for now. I don’t exactly blame her. If I could have seen the future, I’m really not sure if I would have stopped it. I feel stronger now, somehow. I still feel like my thoughts are plagued, though. They’ll never be set right again. 

I excuse myself first, leaving the silent table. It’s only silent because of me. I rush to my room, suddenly getting the urge to vomit. I force myself to ignore it. I close my door gently and fall to my bed. My face hits my pillow and I lie there, trying to get air. I don’t bother moving off my stomach. I try to keep myself together but everything is so wrong right now. 

I truly miss having someone there to tell everything to. That’s another thing I can add onto the list of things I never had before the tour. I usually just kept everything inside and then suddenly people started to care more about me. I told so many things to Brendon. We’d just sit in the back lounge and talk. I miss the talking, not Brendon. If I missed Brendon that would just be pointless. 

“Why’d you do it?” I hear a soft voice from my doorway. 

I roll over and see Sarah standing there, the door pushed open. She looks hurt and small. I can’t help but to want to comfort her. “It was kind of a subconscious decision.” I mumble. I’m not sure what specifically she is talking about, but that answer should be sufficient for quite a lot of events. 

“Was he gay before me?” she asks, not sounding cruel or mean, rather confused and sad. 

I hesitate, not sure if bringing up William is finest thing to do now. “Not really.” 

She looks a little better, but I can still see the tears forming in her eyes. “Were you?” she asks, her voice broken. I just realize that we’re actually fairly connected. Brendon both hurt us. 

“No.” I say, finally moving my body so I’m sitting up. 

She looks pretty torn up about this. Apparently saying no to both of those questions wasn’t the right answer. I guess that would be a little sad, hearing two kind of straight males got together while one of them had a girlfriend. 

“Look, Sarah, if it makes you feel any better…” I pause, feeling my stomach drop. “I didn’t get Brendon either.” 

She flinches at his name, obviously in a different state of heartbreak than me. Her facial expressions suddenly turn from sorrow to anger. “You took him from me and you couldn’t even keep him?” she yells at me. 

“You really think I wanted that, Sarah? Really?” I scream, knowing that everyone can probably hear us at this point. “Do you honestly want me to be with him if you can’t be?” 

She looks so close to crying and it’s like a knife to my heart. “I’d rather somebody be happy!” 

The knife must have just missed my heart, because I keep fighting. “You’re full of shit!” I shout angrily. “If I was still with Brendon, you’d be a million times worse right now.” 

“How do you know?” she says, tears now spoiling her face. I hold back mine. She’s the girl, she’s supposed to cry. “I can’t even get him back because of...what you’ve done.” 

“What I’ve done!?” I repeat incredulously. “What the fuck is that even supposed to mean?” 

“You know what I mean, Ryan.” she says, her voice quieting down like she doesn’t want to talk about it. 

I smile a little meanly. “No.” I say, amusement ringing in my voice. “Tell me, Sarah, what have I done?” There’s a loud knock on the front door and I get up quickly, forcing my way around Sarah. “You think about the answer while I’m gone?” 

I rush to the front door, glad to be out of that too small of a room. I open the door and get the sudden urge to slam it shut. Standing there on my ancient doormat, is only but the star of the night. He runs his hands through his hair and starts talking quickly. “Look, I know you probably really don’t want to see me right now but just please listen, okay? Like, I know, I really do know that I shouldn’t have-” 

“Brendon?” an irritated voice says behind me. 

“Oh god.” I just barely hear Brendon say under his breath. 

I just stand there, too shocked to say anything. I know I should just shut the door and crawl under my blankets and pretend this never happened but instead I stand there, watching the scene unfold. 

Sarah walks down the steps, pushing me aside. “Why are you even here?” she says, all dreamily. I start to feel distinctly bad for her. I hear my family all walk over and stare at us. I wish for it all to disappear. 

Brendon looks conflicted for a few seconds, then looks back over to me. “I’m here to apologize to Ryan.” 

I can’t help but to stand there and be not sure. Brendon sounds so final about it all. It sounds rehearsed. I don’t want him to apologize. I can keep mourning and let him hold the regret. He’s trying to hand it to me. I can’t accept it. 

“Okay, I know I messed up and-” 

“No!” Sarah interrupts him for the second time. “This isn’t how it works. You’re not supposed to say sorry to him.” 

“I’m sorry, Sarah. I’m here for him, not you.” There’s something about his voice that makes my stomach swell with hope. I really wish this wasn’t happening. 

Brendon looks like he’s waiting for Sarah to leave us alone. She stays with this unbelievable look her on face. “Go on then.” 

“Okay.” he nods then turns towards me and clears his throat. His brown eyes fall into the gaze of mine and I’ve really missed those. It hasn't even been that long. “I know I kind of, okay I did, mess up but it’s only because I was...scared.” 

Something about him saying he’s scared brings me back to another time with the two of us. In the breakfast room of that Chicago hotel, on the day of our date. I admitted I was scared. I hated saying it out loud. I was scared of something that wasn’t even tangible. Something about the way Brendon just loosely admits this just hits home. 

“Everything I said, I swear, I was lying. Sometimes I'm just way too selfish, and I didn’t just want to tell you I wanted to fix my own problems and just stop with yours. It’s just that those pictures could easily ruin what I’ve spent way too long trying to mend. I did want everything to go back to normal, just because of my parents, too.” He takes a deep breath. “And you have full rights to just hate me because it wasn’t fair of me to blame you for everything when obviously it wasn’t just you. I’m just. I’m just really fucking sorry and I swear I had more planned but…” he trails off. 

I don’t even know what to say, my voice still off someplace else since Brendon got here. I want to just forgive him, but I can’t. Look what he’s done to me. It’s better off this way. I don’t need him. Everything changes when I look at him, though. He looks just as miserable as me. His hair looks greasy and I think he might have just gotten home. My headache from this morning is back. 

“I can’t believe you, Brendon.” Sarah says, budging into our one-sided conversation. “I can’t believe I ever liked you. You really are gay.” 

I watch Brendon’s face fall, his eyes finally moving out from my gaze. I feel like a weight’s been picked off of me. Brendon’s still here, though. He turns to Sarah, his voice stronger than it was for me. “Do you have a problem with that?” 

“Brendon, you should leave.” I say abruptly. It didn’t even have time to process in my head. 

“No, Ryan, I swear I can make this up to you!” he says frantically, trying to place a hand on my shoulder. I back away from his touch. 

“He said leave.” Sarah reminds him, though I obviously don’t think Brendon needs reminding. 

Brendon gives me a solemn look. “I do love you, you know.” he says, his voice softer. I think everyone else can hear it in the room, but I feel like his words were so pushed at me, so direct. 

I watch him take these dreadful steps towards the door and I don’t know how to feel. Regardless of everything else that’s happened, he’s still my best friend somehow. Can still make me laugh, hug me if I’m a mess, or just be there. I’m falling apart now and he’s here and I can’t seem to figure out what there is to lose. 

He’s done something to me that kills me on the inside. I don’t like the way I react whenever I’m around him. I don’t need this. Maybe Brendon was right even when he was lying, maybe we are nothing. Something sharp rings in my head, like I know I’m wrong, but as I watch him leave I know it’s for the best. 

I feel dead as I see Brendon give me one last look and then leave. The second the door is closed it’s like he’s gone from my life. Like he’s just been some fairy tale and now it’s over. The thing with all great fairy tales is, you remember them. I swear I can still hear ‘I love you’ crystal clear to my ears. He’s gone now, though. The more I let things become blurry and unrecognizable the better everything will become. 

 

I’m coiled in my blankets, my room pitch black when my phone brings me out of my thoughts. I’ve been in my bed for a while now, trying to fall asleep since Brendon left. It appears to be a mountainous task, as sleep hasn’t taken me anywhere just yet. I’m not even sure what time it is. I lazily check the caller ID only to find it’s my manager. I know better than to ignore him even if I feel like shit. 

“Hello.” I say, my voice sounding gravely. I instantly clear my throat. 

“Ryan, glad you finally got back to me.” he says, obviously not too happy about my current exile from the real world. “I just thought I should let you know we’re working on the pictures. I just talked to Brendon’s manager and we’re just going to release a statement about how it was all some joke. Um, Brendon said that would be fine so I was checking to see if that would be okay for you.” 

“Of course Brendon said that’s fine.” I mutter angrily. 

There’s a moment of silence where I don’t think my manager knows how to say anything to me. He recovers faster than I anticipate. “Look, I don’t think it’s any of my business to know what happened between you two but this is both of your careers on the line. You should know that people don’t take that kind of news well. Even if there is...something, you should still play it off as a joke.” 

“A joke? Uh, okay.” I repeat, my tongue feeling betrayed. “It’s really nothing. I just–I don’t know what you mean by ‘joke’ because who will believe that?” 

“They don’t necessarily have to believe it, Ryan.” he tells me, ignoring my bitterness. “As long as they know it isn’t anything, this will all blow over. We could release a single or a new tour or something soon, just to distract them or something…” 

“Okay, yeah, whatever.” I shake my head, hoping that this conversation will just come to an end. I know my manager is simply doing his job but it seems cruel to force all this on me right now. I can barely figure anything out for myself, let alone for my fans or the press or whoever else gives a shit about my life. I honestly don’t care at the moment. 

“Well, we’ll probably release it tonight or early tomorrow. Goodbye.” 

“Bye.” 

One conversation done and gone. 

I shrug my phone to the side of my bed and bury my face in the countless pillows I have spread among me. I can’t even bother having sympathy for Brendon. He tells me sorry but doesn’t mind okaying something that basically goes against what he’s saying. It seems like a finality. We’re done. It was a joke. It’s definitely not closure but it’s as close as I’ll get. 

Long live forgetfulness. 

Goodbye infatuation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure you read the next part/sequel thing. There's actually resolution in that!


End file.
